


No Two Hearts

by ThatRavenclawBitch



Series: No Two Hearts 'verse [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Minor Character Death, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-01
Updated: 2017-11-19
Packaged: 2018-02-14 22:19:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 95,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2205093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatRavenclawBitch/pseuds/ThatRavenclawBitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Belle French's life as an attorney and single mother has never lent itself to romance. But when a blast from her past shows up unexpectedly, it puts her whole world in a tailspin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Memory of Pain

Belle French had faced her share of shock and trauma in her relatively short life, but nothing had prepared her for the sight of the little blue box clutched tightly in Gary Stone's large hand.

She should want this. Any woman would want this. Gary was fantastic. He was smart, driven, successful. He was good looking in a conventional, if slightly boring way. He was exactly the type of guy you would want to bring home to your parents. The kind of guy you want to love, honor and protect you. But Belle didn't want any of that, and she especially didn't want Gary.

She stared down at the ring in horror. Well, perhaps horror was a strong word. More than anything she felt an overwhelming sense of apathy.

In retrospect, she should have seen this coming. She and Gary had been dating for over a year. He was thirty-five, financially secure, had a great job. After all, _a single man in possession of a large fortune must be in want of a wife_. It just hadn't struck Belle until that moment that anyone would see _her_ as that wife.

In all honesty, she assumed what she and Gary had was casual. They didn't live together. They'd never taken a vacation together. She'd met his family only once when they'd visited at Thanksgiving. She hadn't meant to let things get this far, but she was lonely and Gary was kind. It had been easy to just go with the flow, let him take her out to dinner once a week, spend the occasional night over. But she couldn't marry him, he must know that.

The truth was, Belle didn't see herself marrying anyone. She could never marry someone for whom she felt anything less than tingles. Only the very deepest love, true love, would have her marching down an aisle in a white dress. And poor Gary just did not inspire those feelings in her. Only one person ever had.

Gary was starting to sweat beneath the crisp collar of his dress shirt. His blue eyes were wide, his smile stretched across his face in a strange tableau of happiness and love. But she knew he didn't feel it either. Gary was going through the motions, checking off the appropriate boxes on his way to his dream life. Corner office? Check! Silver Mercedes? Check! Little wife? Almost check!

She knew she'd stayed silent too long, her stunned response not what Gary had been expecting. She also knew that some sort of response was needed, required even. But part of her wished she could just freeze time, stay in the moment with Gary blissfully unaware of what she was about to say and her own conscience guilt free. But Belle had no super powers. She was an ordinary woman, and time ticked on, the minute hand slowly circumnavigating the face of Gary's Rolex.

She swallowed, sitting back in her chair. Why did he have to do this in public? Right in the middle of a crowded restaurant on a Friday evening. The complete and total lack of understanding of what Belle herself would want in this situation slightly eased her mind at what she was about to do. He really didn't know her at all.

"Well, darling?" Gary prompted, his heartbeat pulsing in the vein at his temple. Belle was distracted by that vein, focusing on it intently instead of her would-be intended's manic eyes. "Don't leave me hanging, Belle."

"I'm sorry," she whispered, closing her small hand around Gary's larger one and forcing the jewelry box closed. The gentle sound of velvet meeting velvet seemed to echo through the dining room as the glittering diamond solitaire was snuffed from view.

Gary's brow knitted as though he couldn't quite conceive of what was happening.

"What are you sorry about?" he asked, glancing down at the closed box as the vein in his temple picked up the pace.

"I can't marry you, Gary," she said slowly. She wished she could have done this somewhere more private, but to say anything other than no in this moment would give him false hope, would only hurt him more in the long run. Belle couldn't do that to him. She only thanked her lucky stars he'd remained seated throughout this debacle and hadn't done something truly stupid like fall to one knee. There were enough people staring their way even without that clear indicator of exactly what was happening at table 6 at Chez Antoine.

The silly smile on Gary's face slipped away as he pocketed the jewelry box. Belle felt she could breathe easier as soon as the thing was out of sight.

"Why not?" he asked, suddenly solemn. "Is this about Elizabeth? Because I thought..."

"No," Belle assured him. "Gary, I'm not the one for you."

Her boyfriend cocked an eyebrow at her. "Then what exactly have we been doing for the past year?"

Belle sighed, rubbing at her temple with one manicured hand.

"Having fun?" she shrugged. "We've never talked about long term. I didn't realize you were even thinking of something so permanent."

"Dammit, Belle," Gary whispered harshly. "I had a plan."

"Well I'm sorry I don't conform to your plan," Belle said, affronted. "But I have to do what's right for me. I wouldn't make you happy, Gary. I think deep down you know that."

Gary leaned away from her with a stiff nod. "Well you're certainly not making me happy now."

He signaled the waiter for the check and less than ten minutes later Belle found herself bundled into a cab and headed home. Gary had insisted on paying the fare, against Belle's objections. But she'd eventually given in rather than face the stifling silence of having him drive her home.

She sighed, leaning her head back against the cracked seat of the taxi. She'd expected a predictable night out with Gary, and now she found herself alone and single yet again. Well, not alone. Not really.

She let herself into her house wearily, the sound of The Real Housewives of Somewhere trickling in from the den. She found Ruby half asleep on the couch and woke her with a gentle hand on her shoulder. After a hug, a promise to call her the next morning and a $20 bill surreptitiously slipped into her purse when she wasn't looking, Ruby left and Belle flipped the television off wanting nothing more than to crawl into bed and sleep for a week.

She kicked her heels off in the den and made her way upstairs, stripping out of her cocktail dress on the way. She dropped the garment in a crumpled mess in the chair next to her closet and pulled on her favorite old red men's dress shirt, shoving the frayed cuffs up over her hands and burying her nose in the collar as she always did, trying to catch some phantom scent that had long since evaporated.

She took a steadying breath before leaving her bedroom and heading across the hall, peeking in at the sleeping figure within. With a smile, she slipped into the room, climbing onto the bed and spooning up behind the little body hidden beneath the covers.

"Mommy?" came a sleepy voice, tousled brown curls appearing from beneath the sheets.

"Shhh, baby, go back to sleep."

"How was your date?" the little voice asked, sounding more awake this time.

Belle was silent for a long moment, cuddling close to her daughter.

"He asked me to marry him," she said eventually.

"What did you say?" her daughter yawned, turning over to bury herself in her mother's arms.

Belle kissed her daughter's forehead, stroking her back.

"I said no, of course."

"Oh," the little girl said, rather dejectedly.

"Would you have wanted me to say yes?" Belle asked, pulling away to look down at her daughter.

The little girl shrugged. "I want you to be happy."

"I am happy, baby," she assured her. "You make me happy."

"I know," the little girl said, closing her eyes and rolling back over. "But grownups like to be with other grownups."

"Why would I want to spend time with boring grownups when I could spend all my time with you?" Belle asked.

Her daughter just shrugged again. "Why don't you want to marry Gary?"

Belle smiled to herself, pushing a curl out of her daughter's face.

"I think you can probably guess why," she replied.

"No tingles?" her daughter asked, opening her eyes and looking at her mother wryly. A look she'd inherited from a father she'd never met.

"Not a one," Belle said playfully.

"But my dad gave you tingles, right?"

"Your dad was extremely tingle-worthy," she assured her.

"That's good," her daughter said, cuddling her stuffed bear close and burying herself beneath the covers once again. "Goodnight, Mommy."

"Goodnight, Elizabeth."

She was too tired to make her way to her own bedroom, and she didn't much feel like being alone with her thoughts tonight anyway, so Belle pulled the covers up over herself, settling in close to her daughter on the twin sized bed. It wasn't Gary's fault she didn't love him. Perhaps in another world, one where she hadn't fallen so completely at the tender age of twenty-two, she could have loved him. But here she was, wrapped in her dead lover's shirt and clinging to her dead lover's daughter. Nine years on and she was still in love with a dead man. Some days she hated him for that, hated him for leaving her, for dying.  

A single tear slipped from beneath her eyelashes and she swiped it away quickly. She hadn't shed tears for him in some time, and she wouldn't start now. What had happened was a tragedy, but there was nothing she could do about it now. She had Lizzie, and that's what mattered. Part of him lived on in their child. If Belle spent the rest of her life alone, it would be well worth the price.  

She fell into a dreamless sleep, unaware of the black Cadillac parked down the block or its occupant who'd been watching the house for some time. 


	2. Of Recollecting and Forgetting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "If any one faculty of our nature may be called more wonderful than the rest, I do think it is memory. There seems something more speakingly incomprehensible in the powers, the failures, the inequalities of memory, than in any other of our intelligences. The memory is sometimes so retentive, so serviceable, so obedient; at others, so bewildered and so weak; and at others again, so tyrannic, so beyond control!" - Jane Austen, Mansfield Park

It had been years since he’d been back in Massachusetts. When one got on the wrong side of certain people, it generally wasn’t a good idea to stay in Boston. But now he was here.

He’d only wanted one glimpse of her, one passing glance to last him through the long lonely nights of his life. He wanted to know that she was safe, happy. He’d had a tail on her over the years, of course. He knew she was okay. But he’d wanted to see for himself. 

He hadn’t expected the girl, and he’d be having words with certain people for that revelation. But now he couldn’t leave, not until he knew. The child looked about eight, exactly the age any child of theirs would have been. Of course he couldn’t know for sure. Perhaps she’d just moved on quickly. Perhaps he hadn’t meant as much to her as she had to him. She was young, so much younger than him. He might be no more to her than a distant dream, a youthful indiscretion long since moved on from. It would be better that way, honestly.

But he couldn’t leave until he knew for sure. He quickly called up one of his men, had them cancel the jet. He’d be staying in Boston for a while longer.

* * *

There were a few things that Elizabeth Anne French knew for sure. Chief among those was that she was named after Elizabeth Bennet and Anne Elliot, a product of her mother’s slightly alarming obsession with Jane Austen. Second of all, her mother loved her more than anything else on the planet. And third, and most pressing, she was going to fail the third grade. 

She stared down at the assignment in her hand as she walked down the steps of her school. It seemed so simple, in theory, but it was going to be nearly impossible. Their history class was studying oral tradition and Miss Blanchard had assigned them a Family Heritage project. They were supposed to draft their family tree and then talk to first hand sources about their own lineage.

That was all well and good for kids who actually had a family. But Lizzie wasn’t one of those kids. She had a mom, and that was it.

She’d never felt lacking before. Mom had always been all the family she needed. For as long as she could remember, it had been just the two of them, and that had always been enough. But Lizzie wasn’t a baby anymore.

Mom never talked about her dad much, and when she did it was in vague terms like “tingles”. She’d heard the story of how they met a hundred times, always couched in fairy tale language. In the story her father was a beast with a tragic past, her mother was a young woman who’d gone to work for him and seen through the pain and hurt to the handsome prince underneath.

She knew her father had been a good man, that her mother loved him and that he’d died before she was born. Anything beyond that was just guessing. Lizzie didn’t even know his name or what he looked like though her mom often said Lizzie resembled him.

Lizzie thought he must not have been very good looking, despite what her mother said. Her mom was beautiful with blue eyes and thick gleaming chestnut hair. Lizzie was the smallest kid in her class with knobby knees and boring brown eyes.

With a sigh she stuffed her family tree paper into her folder and pulled her book sack around to her front to put it away. She wasn’t watching where she was going, just struggling with the zipper on her bag as she headed off down the street to where she knew Aunt Ruby’s red Camaro would be waiting for her, when all of a sudden she bumped into something hard.

Lizzie went stumbling back, dropping her folder which flipped open scattering her papers to the wind.

“Oh no!” she cried.

A hand reached out to steady her, but she didn’t bother looking at the owner as she dropped her bag and set off after her papers, scooping them up before they were tossed off down the street.

Once she’d gathered them up, making sure she hadn’t missed anything, she headed back to where she’d dropped her bag, but froze when she saw a man kneeling next to it holding her folder in one hand. He was dressed in a suit, like the men at Mom’s office, but his brown hair was long, almost to his shoulders. The two things didn’t go together in Lizzie’s mind and it made her uncomfortable. 

“I’m terribly sorry,” he said with an accented voice. “I’m afraid I didn’t see you there.”

“That’s okay,” Lizzie said suspiciously, ripping the folder out of his hand and quickly stuffing her papers back inside it.

“I hope you didn’t lose anything,” the man continued, getting back to his feet with the help of a cane. He was looking at her with a slightly indulgent smile on his lips and his brown eyes seemed kind. But Lizzie knew better than to trust strange men. 

“It’s fine,” Lizzie replied, finally getting her bag open and putting her folder away.

“I’m Liam,” the man said, reaching a hand out as if to shake hers.

Lizzie stared at his hand as though it might bite her.

“I’m not supposed to talk to strangers,” she finally told him directly.

“Well that’s smart,” the man, Liam, said with a chuckle. “Your parents must have taught you well.”

“My mom did,” Lizzie said, shouldering her bag. She wasn’t sure why she was telling this man anything. He certainly was a stranger, and Lizzie was definitely suspicious of him, but something about him seemed trustworthy. That was probably bad.

Without another word, Lizzie turned and headed off quickly down the street.

“It was nice to meet you, Elizabeth!” the man called after her.

Lizzie whipped around.

“How do you know my name?” she demanded.

“It’s monogramed on your bag,” the man returned with another one of those indulgent half smiles, just a quirk of his lips really. 

Lizzie turned, looking down at her pink backpack where sure enough her name was stitched into the fabric in blue cursive letters.

With one final suspicious look at the stranger, she ran off down the street to Ruby’s car.

“Hey, chickadee,” Ruby said brightly as Lizzie slid into the passenger seat. “How was school?”

“Fine,” Lizzie replied, glancing out the window to where the man had so recently been, hoping for another glimpse. But he was already gone.

She didn't tell Ruby about the man. It would just make her worry. He was probably nothing, just some nice old man walking down the street. But Lizzie felt a tingle on the back of her neck, like someone was watching her. She slumped down in the seat next to Ruby and pulled her knees up against her chest, but she still felt exposed.

Ruby eyed her suspiciously before glancing out the window.

"Everything okay, kid?"

Lizzie just nodded, staring straight ahead at the dashboard.

"Well in that case, I think it's definitely time for ice cream."

The promise of strawberry ice cream with chocolate sauce had Lizzie sitting a little straighter in her seat, and by the time they reached the ice cream parlor she'd forgotten all about Liam, his cane, and his kind brown eyes.

* * *

Belle had been dreading work on Monday all weekend, and the day proved even worse than she could have imagined.

The esteemed law offices of Midas, Gold and Nolan hadn’t seemed so imposing since she was a 2L law student on the first day of her internship. But then again, she’d never had to face work only days after turning down a co-worker’s proposal of marriage.

It shouldn’t have been an issue, her workplace romance. Gary was in a completely different division on a completely different floor. She could go weeks without seeing him if need be. She rarely dealt with the attorneys in real estate development.

Not even a wave from her friend Graham Humbert, head of building security, could cheer her up as she headed toward the bank of elevators with grim determination.

And of course, because the universe had never missed an opportunity to deal her a raw hand, she just happened to step on to the elevator at the same time as Gary. Great, she hadn’t even had her first coffee of the day yet.

“Belle,” Gary said stiffly, not meeting her eye. 

“Good morning, Gary,” she replied tensely.

They didn’t exchange another word until they arrived on the 42nd floor and Belle could escape the confines of the elevator car.

“Have a good day, Miss French,” Gary said coldly as the elevator doors shut behind her.

Belle felt like she could breathe easier as soon as he was out of her presence, but her day only got worse from there. 

Rex Midas glanced in her office mid morning to let her know he was putting her on a big real estate closing.

“Belle,” he said, popping his head in to her office. “I need you to head up to 44. There’s a huge closing going down and we need all hands on deck.”

“I’m in the middle of drafting a contract for the big construction merger…”

“Is it immediately pressing?” Midas interrupted her.

“Well, it’s a very technical contract it’s going to take me…”

“The closing is Wednesday,” Midas interrupted again. “It’s more pressing. Gary Stone specifically asked for you.”

“I bet he did,” Belle muttered under her breath as Midas continued off down the hall.

She glanced over at the framed photo of Lizzie on her desk. There was a reason for all this, she reminded herself. She’d gone to law school because, as cliché as it sounded, she wanted to help people. But in her first few years as a practicing attorney, Belle had only managed to help rich old men get richer. She’d been idealistic in her youth, but the realities of life, massive student loan debt and being a single mother, had forced her to take the highest paying job available. It was thanks to this job that she could afford to send Lizzie to one of the best schools in the city. It was because of this job that she could provide Lizzie with a home. It was because of this job that she could supplement Ruby’s waitressing paycheck with a monthly salary for childcare services. She could take care of the people she loved, and that was what was important. 

She tried to hold on to that conviction as she headed up to Gary’s office. Whatever he was playing at, it wasn’t good.

It was nearly 8 o’clock by the time Belle left the office. She’d stayed late to put in more hours on her contract after spending most of the day in Gary’s office. He’d barely spoken to her throughout their long hours together and she couldn’t decide if that was a good or bad thing. As much as she didn’t want to marry the man, she’d been happy to be his friend. She had so few people in her life to begin with and here she was losing one of the few.

She trudged into the house, kicking off her heels and massaging the sore arches of her feet before heading into the kitchen where Ruby was doing homework with Lizzie at the table.

“Hey, Mom!” her daughter said brightly.

“What are you still doing down here?” she asked, taking a wine glass out of the cabinet and pouring herself a healthy measure of pinot noir. “Shouldn’t it be bath time?”

“She has a big assignment she needed your help on,” Ruby explained.

“It’s a family tree,” Lizzie said, holding up a piece of paper with the outline of a tree with blank spaces on each of the branches.

“Okay,” Belle replied, sitting down next to her daughter at the table. “There’s you and me, then Grandpa Moe and Granny Collette above that. Grandpa Moe’s mum was named Isabelle. She’s who I’m named for…”

“No, I don’t need any of that,” Lizzie said, biting her lip like her mother often did when she was nervous. “I need your help to fill out the other side.”

Lizzie tapped a finger against the blank space labeled “Father” and Belle’s stomach did an uncomfortable backflip. She always knew this day would come, when silly little children’s stories masking the truth wouldn’t be enough, when Lizzie would want to know about her father in real terms.

“You know what, I should head out,” Ruby said quickly, standing from the table. “I’ve got to work the breakfast shift tomorrow at the diner.” 

“Yeah, thanks Ruby,” Belle replied distractedly, watching her friend gather up her stuff and head for the front door. As soon as the door closed with a resounding click, Lizzie rounded on her mother.

“So, can we talk about the other side of my family tree?”

“It looks like I need to have a talk with your teacher about the changing familial landscape within our modern world,” Belle said, taking a long sip from her wine glass to buy herself some time.

“Don’t blame Miss Blanchard,” Lizzie refuted. “She said we only had to fill out as much as we could, whether that was one side or two. But I want to know about my dad.”

“He was a lovely man and I loved him very much,” Belle said with a shrug, sure that wouldn’t be enough to satiate Lizzie’s curiosity.

“I know all that,” Lizzie said grumpily. “But I don’t know anything about him. What was his name? What did he do? Did he have any brothers and sisters? Do I have cousins that I don’t know about? How did he die?”

“Lizzie…” Belle began, but her daughter cut her off.

“No, you never talk about him except to say that he was wonderful. Well that’s not enough. I want to know more,” Lizzie demanded. “You say you loved him so much, then why don’t you ever want to talk about him? Why don’t you have his picture up in the house?”

“It’s complicated…”

“No it’s not!” Lizzie cried. “That’s just what grownups say when they don’t want you asking questions.”

“It still hurts, Lizzie!” Belle finally broke. “Your dad was the love of my life, and he’s gone. I’ll never have him back and it hurts to think about what might have been. I wish so hard that you could have known him, sweetheart, but that’s not how life panned out. I’m sorry that I don’t talk about him, but it’s easier not to. It’s easier to pretend it was all some fairy tale that brought me you because the reality of the situation just…sucks.”

The long day at work, the cold shoulder from Gary, her daughter’s questions, memories she’d rather not dwell on all seemed to overwhelm her for a moment. Belle felt as though the entire world was pushing down on her, and she couldn’t breathe. 

She dropped her head into her hands, willing her emotions in check. She would not break down in front of her daughter. After a moment, she felt a tentative little hand on her arm.

“I’m sorry, Mommy,” came the small little voice beside her.

“Oh, baby, you have nothing to apologize for,” Belle assured her, pulling her daughter into her lap and hugging her close. “Of course you want to know about your dad and of course you want to know where you come from. I’m so sorry I haven’t told you much about him. You’re growing up so fast, I just thought I had more time.”

“More time for what?” Lizzie asked, leaning back to look at her mother.

“For you to be my baby girl,” Belle replied sadly. “But I can’t keep you in the dark forever.”

She pulled the family tree paper toward them, tracing up from Lizzie’s name to the blank space for her father. 

“I’m afraid you should only fill out your mother’s side of this, despite what I’m about to tell you, okay?” she asked, and Lizzie nodded solemnly at her mother’s serious tone.

“Your dad’s name was William, William Gold. And he was a very powerful man.”

Belle hoped she was doing the right thing. Being a parent didn’t come with an instruction manual, and there were things she’d rather her daughter not know. She was only eight years old, still a baby in so many ways. But it was time to give her some clues to her father’s past. She only hoped what she had to offer would be enough. 


	3. Interesting Situations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Human nature is so well disposed towards those who are in interesting situations, that a young person, who either marries or dies, is sure of being kindly spoken of." - Jane Austen, "Emma"

_Ten Years Earlier_

“I’m nervous,” Belle said, chewing on her lip as she stared up at the imposing building in front of her

“Why are you nervous?” came Ruby’s voice from the other end of the phone line. “You’re going to rock it, you know it!”

“Because what if I’m a complete fraud? I don’t know anything and this is one of the best firms in the city.”

“Belle,” Ruby replied with a sigh. “You landed this internship for a reason. You’re a freaking genius. Just walk in there like the badass bitch you are and own the place. Chances are they’re just going to send you on a coffee run anyway, right? You’re totally up for that.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” she said with a roll of her eyes.

“Look, if there’s one thing being your roommate for the past four years has shown me it’s that you can do anything. Remember when we had those loud frat boy neighbors who screamed outside our window until 4 in the morning during finals? You didn’t let that stand did you?”

“No,” Belle conceded. She’d successfully had them removed from the apartment complex.

“What about that time Peter dumped me the day before my birthday? You still managed to make it the best 20th birthday anyone has ever had.”

“So I can throw a decent party,” Belle allowed. “That doesn’t mean I can be a lawyer.” 

“Yes it does,” Ruby insisted. “The point is you can do anything! Now stop moping and go kick some butt.”

With that her friend hung up the phone, leaving Belle standing in front of the downtown offices of Midas & Gold, LLC with butterflies rocketing through her stomach. 

With one last calming breath, she pushed through the glass front doors, her impractically high heels clicking along the marble floor of the lobby.

She strode toward the large security desk in the middle of the lobby where a young looking man with curly brown hair and a scruffy beard was sitting, tapping various buttons on a console screen. 

“Can I help you?” he asked, glancing up at her briefly before returning to whatever he was doing on the screen. 

“I’m a new intern for Midas & Gold,” she replied. Before she could get out another word, the man held up a hand to stop her.

“Floors 42 to 48,” he said calmly. “Go to the 42nd floor and ask for Abigail at the reception desk. She should get you set up with the appropriate security pass.” 

“Wow,” Belle blinked. “It’s such a huge building, how do you know the protocol for every company?”

“I’m just a genius at remembering insignificant details,” the man shot back with a grin. “Or it could be that you’re the third intern for Midas & Gold to ask me that question today. I called up earlier.”

“Oh,” Belle said, feeling silly. “Oh!” she added, glancing down at her watch to see that it was almost nine. If she kept dawdling she’d be late for her first day. 

“Thank you so much, Graham,” she said, reading his name off his name tag. Then she rushed off toward the elevators as quickly as her stilettos could carry her.

“Hold the elevator please!” she called as she rushed toward a pair of open brass doors at the end of the elevator bank.

A hand shot out to keep the door from closing and Belle sidled in breathlessly. 

“What floor?” an accented voice asked.

“42, thanks,” Belle replied, turning to face her elevator companion as he pushed the button. 

The first thing Belle noticed about the man was that he was short, only scant inches taller than her in her heels. He was impeccably dressed in a dark three-piece-suit and shiny black dress shoes. His clothes probably cost more than the contents of her entire apartment. Despite that, his hair was on the longer side, almost brushing the collar of his burgundy dress shirt.

He was handsome too, probably no older than his late thirties with dark brown eyes and a mouth that was currently quirked up in a semblance of a grin. Belle realized with a start that she’d been staring and quickly wheeled around to face the doors of the elevator. She could swear she heard the muffled sound of laughter from the man behind her.

“Midas & Gold,” the man said suddenly.

“Pardon me?” Belle asked, snapping out of her stupor and glancing back over her shoulder.

“The 42nd floor,” he explained, leaning back against the brass railing of the elevator car. “That’s the offices of Midas & Gold.” 

“Yes,” Belle replied, trying to regain her composure. She belonged here, damn it. She couldn’t let herself be intimidated by handsome older men in elevators. “It’s my first day.”

“Good luck with that,” her companion said with a crooked grin. Something in his tone made her turn back to face him.

“Why do you say that?” Belle asked warily.

“Pretty young thing like you?” the stranger mused. “They’ll chew you up and spit you out if you’re not careful. You’re about to walk into a lion’s den, my dear. Rex Midas, well he’s a hard ass. If you’re not up to snuff he’ll have no problem eviscerating you in front of your peers.” 

Belle felt her blood boil at the man’s assessment of her. Suddenly he didn’t seem quite so handsome.

“And Gold?” she prompted, leveling the man with her best glare.

“A right bastard,” the man said with a snort. “Best criminal defense attorney in the state, and he didn’t get there by playing nice.”

“And how do you know all this?” Belle asked skeptically, folding her arms across her chest.

“I’ve worked in this building a long time,” he replied with a shrug. “I’m bound to pick up on a few things.”

“Well thank you for the warning,” Belle said tightly. “But believe it or not a ‘pretty young thing’ like me will be just fine. I’ve been dealing with people who underestimate me my entire life. Just because I’m young and a woman doesn’t invalidate my worth.” 

The man arched an eyebrow at her.

“You may just make it after all, Miss....” he trailed off, waiting for her name. 

“French,” she returned smartly. “Belle French. And you’d better believe it.”

The man’s smirk widened into a fully lopsided grin at that, but Belle didn’t bother admiring it. They’d arrived at her floor, and she had a world to set on fire.

Without another glance back at the man she sauntered out into the wide reception area of the Law Offices of Midas & Gold, LLC. For the first time that morning, she felt confident.

* * *

_Present Day_

“So my dad was a lawyer like you?” Lizzie asked, munching on the cookies Belle had given her while she told her story. “The best in the state?”

“One of the best in the country,” she corrected. “People from all over the world would come to him for help. I met him my very first day of work, but I didn’t even realize it was him for a week. I just kept seeing him randomly in the building and he never once told me who he was.”

Lizzie’s face screwed up, a line forming between her eyebrows that was so much like her father it nearly stole Belle’s breath away.

“That doesn’t sound very honest,” Lizzie observed with a shake of her head.

“Well,” Belle said evasively. “Your father was a good man, but honesty wasn’t always his strong suit. And he was always a bit of a trickster.” 

“Was he from Boston?” her daughter asked, moving on quickly to her next question.

“No, he was from Scotland originally but he hadn’t lived there in years by the time I met him. I think both of us being foreigners here was one of the things that bonded us together.”

“Scotland?” Lizzie asked, taking a long sip of milk. “Like Merida?”

“Yep,” Belle said with a smile. “You’re one half Merida, one half Nemo, kid.”

“That makes me a mermaid!” her daughter cried triumphantly.

“I guess so,” Belle chuckled. “You’re my special little mermaid. And it’s time for this mermaid to take a bath.”

“Wait, Mom,” Lizzie called as Belle stood from the kitchen table to herd her daughter toward the stairs. “You didn’t tell me how he died.”

Belle felt her heart stutter to a stop in her chest. The last thing she wanted was to relive that awful day. It was one thing to talk about William’s life and quite another to remember his death.

“It was just a car accident, baby,” she said after a moment, turning to look at her daughter sadly. “A truck ran a red light and hit his car. By the time the paramedics got there it was too late.”

“Oh,” Lizzie said dejectedly. “That’s boring.”

“Excuse me?” Belle asked shocked. 

“Well you said he was powerful,” Lizzie returned with a shrug. “I thought maybe he died in a gun fight or something.”

“Elizabeth Anne French, what has Ruby been letting you watch on television?”

“Nothing!” her daughter was quick to defend her babysitter. “But if he was so powerful how could a car accident kill him?”

“Because, sweetheart, as amazing as your dad was, he was still just a man,” Belle said, stroking her daughter’s hair back from her face. “And sometimes things just happen for no good reason and we can’t explain them. The night he died, your dad was on his way to the movies with,” she hesitated for a moment, “a friend. I’ve kept myself awake more nights than you can possibly imagine wondering what our lives would be like if he’d not been on the road that night, if he’d just skipped the movie. But thinking that will drive you mad. Not everything serves some grand purpose, baby. Sometimes things just happen and we have to live with that.”

“But…” Lizzie began. 

“Bath time,” Belle interrupted firmly, pointing toward the stairs.

“Doesn’t sound like a powerful man to me,” Lizzie muttered under her breath as she headed out of the room with a surly expression on her face. 

Belle crumpled into the chair her daughter had so recently vacated, cradling her head in her hands. October 31, 2005 had been the worst day of her life. She was happy to share the good memories of Lizzie’s father, but no amount of pleading from her daughter could make her relive that.  

* * *

If Monday had been a rotten day, Tuesday was immeasurably worse. Lizzie had groused all evening, in a bad mood over what she perceived as a “boring” death for her father. Perhaps she should have continued with the pretty stories for her daughter. Perhaps she should have let her believe in the fairy tale, that Gold hadn’t died in a mundane way but flittered off somewhere exotic or was borne on the backs of winged eagles to a castle in the clouds where they would one day join him. But Lizzie had asked for the truth, and Belle had given it to her as much as she was able.

There were so many things about her relationship with Gold that Lizzie was too young to understand. There were so many things about his life that she’d rather her daughter not know. She was only eight years old. There would be plenty of time for the hard truths of real life. She wanted to keep her baby girl sheltered for as long as possible. 

Digging around in the past always had an uncomfortable way of keeping Belle awake at night, so it was with bleary eyes that she made her way into work on Tuesday morning.

“Are you okay?” Graham asked as she strolled through the security area, flashing her badge.

“Just a long night,” she conceded, stepping over to where her friend was seated and leaning against the desk. “Lizzie had a lot of questions about her father.”

Graham gave her a sympathetic look over the rim of his coffee cup. 

For all that Gold had been the love of her life, there were very few people who knew the exact nature of their relationship. There were even fewer who knew who Lizzie’s father was. Graham was one of that number.

“What did you tell her?” he asked.

“The truth,” Belle replied with a shrug. “He was a wonderful man who I loved dearly who died tragically. But she’s a child, she wanted more answers than I could give her.”

“She’s a child,” Graham agreed. “She probably just wants to know what he was like. Tell her stories about him, the good things.”

“Apparently his death wasn’t imaginative enough for her. Perhaps I should have just let her to continue to believe the fairy tale.” 

“She’s growing up, and you owe her honesty,” Graham said, not quite meeting her eyes as he turned to sort through some papers on his desk. “But that’s not the only thing bothering you, is it?”

Belle had to concede that her sleepless night wasn’t only attributable to bad memories. Part of it was due to trepidation at spending yet another day in close quarters with a very recent ex. A large part of her thought that Gary had only asked for her help on the closing to make her uncomfortable.

“Gary and I broke up,” she sighed.

“Oh, no,” Graham deadpanned. “I liked him so much.” 

Belle rolled her eyes. It was no secret that Gary had hardly been a hit with her friends. Ruby thought he was a pompous ass and Graham’s opinion was hardly any better.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m sure you’re real broken up,” she said, pushing away from the counter. “We should get together soon. You have to tell me about that blonde I saw you with last weekend.”

“What’s to tell?” Graham returned with a shrug. “I like blondes.”

Belle shot him a smirk over her shoulder on her way to the elevator. 

Her five-minute conversation with Graham turned out to be the highlight of her day. She was stuck in Gary’s office, going over documents for the closing, for most of the morning. When lunchtime arrived, she was looking forward to getting out of his uncomfortable presence for a few moments, but Gary informed her he’d ordered in for them so they could work through lunch. 

So instead she found herself seated at Gary’s desk, eating a turkey sandwich on rye with a glass of iced tea in uncomfortable silence.

“Do you know why I wanted you on this project, Belle?” Gary asked, breaking the silence at long last as he looked up from his Cobb salad. 

“I’m the best associate in the practice and you knew I’d get the job done right?” Belle hazarded a guess.

“That certainly doesn’t hurt,” Gary conceded, wiping his hands on a napkin, and standing from his seat so he towered over her. Gary had a good fifteen inches on Belle. It had always been a source of discomfort, having to crane her neck to meet his eyes. With her seated, she had to lean back in her chair to be able to look at him.

“But the real reason I wanted you here,” Gary continued, “was to remind you of what a good team we make. We work well together, Belle.”

Belle put down her half eaten sandwich, staring up at the tall man in front of her. He couldn’t possibly be serious.

“We haven’t been working together,” she pointed out. “I’ve been working and so have you and we happen to be in the same office. It’s not the same. You’ve barely spoken to me these past two days.”

“I was hurt by your rejection,” Gary nodded. “But I’m ready to talk things out now.” 

“Look, Gary, I’m more than happy to help you with this project, but our relationship from here on out is a strictly professional one. I meant what I said on Friday.”

“I can’t just let you go, Belle,” he exclaimed. “This isn’t over.”

And here it was, the fallout she was waiting for. Nothing could ever just end neatly, could it? She’d had so little invested in the relationship with Gary that it seemed odd for him to cling to it with both hands. Had she really underestimated his feelings that much? Or was he just used to getting what he wanted? 

“I’m sorry,” she said, standing to even out their height disparity somewhat. Even in her heels he still towered over her. “I can’t marry you. We don’t want the same things and we wouldn’t be happy together.” 

“I don’t understand,” Gary pleaded. “I’ve been racking my brain ever since Friday night and I just don’t know what went wrong.”

“Nothing went wrong,” she assured him. “I think we’re just in vastly different places in our lives. I’m not ready to get married. I don’t know that I ever will be.”

“Then why the hell did you lead me on for a year?” he demanded.

Belle felt her stomach clench uncomfortably. She hadn’t meant to lead him on, honestly. She didn’t realize Gary was as invested in the relationship as he apparently was. They’d always kept things so casual. They’d never even said ‘I love you’ for Christ’s sake.

“I was lonely,” she admitted. “I’m sorry. I never should have let things go on as long as they did when I knew nothing could come of it. But being a single mother is hard. It was nice to have someone to go to dinner with, to spend time with when I wasn’t just an attorney or Lizzie’s mum. It was nice to just be Belle for a bit.”

“You can have that permanently if you marry me,” he said, taking her by the hand. “And think about your daughter. Elizabeth needs a father figure in her life. The only male influence she has is that security guard…” he spat out the words as though they were something vile.

Belle ripped her hand out of Gary’s grip, glaring up at him. It was one thing to want answers, closure on their relationship. It was quite another to bring her child into this and insult her friends.

“Lizzie is just fine,” she said, backing away from Gary. “She has everything she needs and to insinuate otherwise is an insult to me as a parent.”

“Belle,” he groaned. “That’s not what I meant. I know you do your best. But girls that grow up without a strong male influence end up damaged. Do you want to see your little girl dropping out of school and working a pole for a living?”

Gary chuckled as if he’d just said something incredibly witty. 

Belle felt her mouth drop open at that. She had no words, her anger brimming up inside her and threatening to boil over at any moment.

“We belong together, baby,” Gary continued, completely oblivious to her outrage. He was never one for gauging the thoughts and feelings of those around him. It’s how they’d ended up in the position in the first place. Gary Stone couldn’t conceive of a world where anyone would refuse him anything. Belle couldn’t believe it had taken a failed proposal of marriage to make her fully appreciate that. 

“You, me and Elizabeth,” he said, walking toward Belle. “We should be a family.”

“No,” Belle said with a shake of her head. “We shouldn’t. Elizabeth and I are a family. We don’t need anyone else.”

“Hush,” Gary said softly. “You know I’m right.”

Belle’s face was a mask of disbelief. How did Gary not understand her? She didn’t want to marry him and she could not be clearer about that fact.

“You’re not listening to me because I’m not saying what you want to hear,” Belle insisted. “But I know my heart, and I absolutely cannot…”

Her words were cut off as Gary placed his big hands on either side of her face, cupping her cheeks before pulling her in for a kiss, his mouth pressing against her non responsive one.

“Stop!” she cried, trying to pull herself out of his grip, but Gary only wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her tighter.

Belle shoved at his chest ineffectively. He was too strong. Finally, when he tried to pry her mouth open with his tongue, she pulled back and kneed him as hard as she could in the groin.

Gary doubled over in pain, finally releasing her from his vice like grip.

“Goddammit, you bitch!” he bellowed.

“You were asking for it,” Belle shot back.

A knock came from the closed door before Gary’s gray haired secretary poked her head in. 

“Is everything alright?” she asked, taking in the scene with wide eyes.

“You might need to get Gary here an ice pack,” Belle said coolly as Gary dropped to the floor in his misery.

His secretary nodded before scurrying back out into the hall.

“I think you can finish this closing by yourself,” Belle shot at Gary as she picked up her files and headed for the doorway.

“Oh, and by the way,” she added, glancing back over her shoulder. “I’m reporting you for sexual harassment.”

Her righteous indignation lasted until she made her way back down to her own office. Then she shut the door and let the panic that had been brimming underneath the surface during her encounter with Gary break free.

She felt as though the walls were closing in, her heart racing like she’d just run a mile. Gary could have… 

It was no use to think it. He never would have gone that far, especially not in their office building in the middle of a workday. But the fact he’d tried to force a kiss on her even after she’d said no was enough to have her stomach roiling, the turkey sandwich she’d had for lunch threatening to come up.

Belle sat down, bending at the waist and taking deep breaths, trying to calm herself. She was all right, nothing bad had happened. If anything she was even more justified in her conviction not to marry Gary. She shuddered to think what the man might actually be capable of. Hell hath no fury like a spoiled rich boy denied what he wants.

Once she’d calmed down, Belle gathered up her things, determining to work from home for the rest of the day. She couldn’t stay here, in this building. It was a miracle she ever got anything done here anyway. The halls were so filled with memories.

After William’s death, she’d dropped out of life for a little while. She’d been two months into her judicial clerkship when the accident happened. She’d quit going in to work, curled up in her apartment and crying into her pillow. She probably would have let herself starve to death if not for Ruby and Graham coming by with food and forcing to her eat. Eventually she’d quit. 

A month later she’d found out she was pregnant. If not for Lizzie, she would have descended further into her grief, let it overtake her and wallowed there. But her pregnancy gave her purpose. She had to take care of herself because she had to take care of her child, William’s child, the tangible proof that their love was real.

She studied for and took the Bar Exam all the while battling morning sickness, taking out Bar study loans to pay her bills. She took up a job waitressing at Ruby’s grandmother’s diner to make ends meet, and by the time Lizzie was three months old she’d passed the Bar and started going on job interviews. When Midas & Gold first offered her an associate position, she’d been hesitant to take it. It was the place she’d first met William. It was the place they’d fallen in love. In the end, it was that fact, along with the generous compensation, that made her take it. It made their relationship seem more real. He’d never been her husband. Few enough people had even known about their romance. She had precious few people to talk to about him. Being here, in the place where their love had first blossomed, made her feel closer to him, even if he was long gone. 

And if his name occasionally came up in passing or was seen on an old document, she’d let the pain wash through her because it meant what they had was real.

She shouldered her laptop bag, heading down the elevator and into the lobby. A quick wave to Graham and a forced smile later she was heading out into the bright afternoon sunshine. Taking a deep breath, she headed for her parking garage. Perhaps she’d surprise Lizzie by picking her up from school.

* * *

Graham watched Belle leave the building, her shoulders slightly slumped. He hated seeing her like this, worn down by the weight of the world. The past decade had been hard on her. She wasn’t that same sweet girl he’d first met ten years ago. She was hardened around the edges, her smile brittle like spun glass. Even still, she was so much stronger than she even gave herself credit for.

His cell phone gave a chirp and he pulled it out of his jacket pocket, brow quirking at the unfamiliar number.

“You’ve reached Graham.”

“Mr. Humbert,” came a familiar voice from the other end of the line, a voice he hadn’t heard in some time. “You've been keeping secrets from me. I think we’re overdue for a little chat, don’t you?”

Graham felt like the blood had turned to ice in his veins at the sound of the cool voice masking fury coursing underneath, like velvet over steel.

“When do you want to meet?” he asked, his voice blessedly even.

“Eleven o’clock tonight. The old spot. Do try to be punctual.”

With that, the line disconnected. 


	4. Business and Friendship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Business, you know, may bring money, but friendship hardly ever does." Jane Austen, "Emma"

_Ten Years Ago_

Her first week at Midas & Gold turned out to be one of the most stressful of her life. After heading up to the 42nd floor, she’d met Abigail, an associate attorney at the firm, and ushered into an office with two other law students.

“Good morning,” Abigail said brightly. “I want you three to know that you’re here because you’re among the best and brightest 2Ls in the country. That got your foot in the door, but it doesn’t mean you’re cut out for Midas & Gold. This summer is going to test you, task you to prove what you’re made of. Pending an evaluation at the end of the summer, you may or may not be offered to continue your internship here into the next school year or parlay into a real job after graduation. Any questions so far?”

Belle and her two fellow interns, one a tall blond man in a grey suit and the other a pretty dark haired woman dressed dourly in black, shook their heads and followed Abigail as she led them on a tour of the office.

“We’re here because we’re the best and brightest, the dark haired girl whispered to Belle as they followed Abigail past the copy room. “But she’s only here for one reason. Nepotism.”

“What?” Belle whispered back, trying to keep her voice down. Abigail was only a few paces in front of them. 

“That’s Abigail _Midas_ ,” the girl clarified. “She’s Rex Midas’ daughter. My mother’s an attorney but I’d be embarrassed if working for her was the only job I could get.”

Belle eyed the brunette suspiciously. Was she really spreading gossip about a woman they’d just met? 

“I’m Regina Mills by the way,” the girl continued, sticking out her hand to shake Belle’s. “Second year, Harvard Law.”

“Belle French,” she replied, shaking Regina’s hand stiffly. “Boston University.”

“Pleasure,” Regina said with a wide smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I can tell we’re going to be friends. I have a sense about people.”

“If you two are done gabbing back there, I thought you might want to familiarize yourselves with our legal library,” Abigail called from further down the hall.

Belle hurried to meet up with her and tall blond intern whose name she hadn’t yet learned.

By the time they’d completed the tour, Belle’s head was spinning. The offices were huge and comprised seven floors of the building. The firm specialized in everything from tax and real estate to criminal defense. She was fairly certain she’d get lost on her way to the bathroom.

“Well, that concludes the tour,” Abigail said with a quick smile, leading them back into their shared office space. “Oh, and yes, I am Mr. Midas’ daughter. I was also Order of the Coif at Yale Law, Editor of the Yale Law Journal, have my L.L.M in tax, and I got this job because I was the best candidate for the position. Oh, and I have excellent hearing.”

With that she spun on her heel, leaving the three interns in startled silence.

“Wow,” the blond man said finally. “She’s a ball buster.”

Regina looked vaguely ill, collapsing into the nearest desk chair.

“I’m David Nolan, by the way,” the man said. “I didn’t have a chance to introduce myself earlier.”

“It’s nice to meet you, David,” Belle replied, shaking his proffered hand. “That’s Regina,” she added, pointing at the other girl. “Discovering you probably shouldn’t gossip about the boss’ daughter within earshot.”

Regina shot her a nasty look, but David smiled warmly.

The first few days were a blur of meetings and paperwork, Belle putting her legal writing skills to use as best she could. They’d met Mr. Midas on their second day when he came by the office to welcome them. Regina had put on her best smile, dominating the conversation in an effort to impress the partner. David had been able to make small talk with him about their shared love of the New England Patriots, and Belle felt small and unremarkable.

She headed out on her lunch break feeling like she’d made an uninspired first impression when the doors of the elevator parted to reveal the same well-dressed man she’d met the day before.

“Miss French!” he said with a smile as she stepped in to the elevator. “Lovely to see you again.” 

Belle just shot him a look over her shoulder. She was in no mood to be talked down to at the moment, and she hadn’t quite forgiven him for his remarks during their previous meeting.

“How’s work at the firm going?” he continued pleasantly, as if they were old friends.

“Fine,” Belle answered stiffly, staring ahead at the elevator doors.

“Have you found your new bosses to be as terrible as I warned?” he asked. Even though she wasn’t facing him, she could hear the smile in his voice.

“Mr. Midas is perfectly nice. I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Gold yet.” 

“I wouldn’t call it a pleasure,” the man scoffed.

“Well if you dislike him so much, I’m sure to love him,” she shot back.

“Oh I sincerely doubt that, Miss French.” 

Belle turned around to face him, crossing her arms against her chest.

“You don’t know anything about me,” she challenged him. “So stop presuming so much.”

“I know more than you think, Miss French.”

“Stop calling me Miss French!” she cried, exasperated. She was pretty sure she’d just botched her chance at making an impression on one of the partners at the law firm. The chances of getting much face time with Mr. Midas were slim to none. She was also already panicking about making a good first impression with Mr. Gold when the time came. She didn’t need this man needling her.

“Shall I call you Belle then?”

“How about you don’t call me anything,” she returned, sweetly. “We can just ride the elevator in peace. Silence is golden, don’t you know?”

The man let out a snort. “That’s my fucking motto.”

“Then live by it,” Belle said, turning back to face the doors of the elevator. 

To his credit, he kept quiet until they arrived on the ground floor, the elevator dinging before the doors opened.

“Don’t you want to know my name?” he asked, before she could step out into the lobby.

“No,” Belle replied firmly before stalking away without a backward glance.

* * *

_October 2014_

Lizzie sprinted down the front steps of the school, waving goodbye to her friend Jessica and heading off down the street to where Ruby was usually parked, waiting for her. But when she reached the corner, the red Camaro was nowhere to be seen.

She glanced up and down the street, worried. Ruby was never late, and if something had happened she would have called the school to make other arrangements for Lizzie’s ride home. She wished she had a cell phone like Jessica, then she could just call her mom. But Mom insisted that she was too young for her own phone. 

She sighed, turning to head back to the school and ask the front office to call Ruby.

“Good afternoon, Elizabeth,” a voice came from behind her.

Lizzie whipped around to see the man with the cane from the day before. He was smiling slightly, the corner of his lip quirked up, and he looked open and friendly. But Lizzie was skeptical.

“What do you want?” she asked, narrowing her eyes at the man and clenching on to the strap of her backpack in case she needed to swing it around like a weapon. It was the middle of the day on well-used street, but Lizzie didn’t want to take any chances.

“Nothing,” the man, Liam, said with a shrug. “You just dropped this.”

He held out a hand, a pink pencil case resting on his palm. That was hers!

“How did you…” she trailed off, craning her neck around to see that her bag was unzipped.

She strode forward, grabbing the pencil case out of his outstretched hand, and glaring up at him.

“Who are you?” she demanded.

The man chuckled, the motion making his eyes crinkle. She wondered how old he was.

“I hope I can be your friend,” he said with a grin. “As it is, I told you yesterday, dear. My name is Liam.” 

“That’s your name,” Lizzie pointed out. “Not who you are. Why are you following me?”

The man smiled again, but it was sadder this time. No eye crinkles.

“I live just around the corner,” he pointed down the street. “I like to take a walk in the afternoons. It helps to stretch my leg.”

He tapped his right foot with his cane and Lizzie wondered what had happened to it. She felt like it would be bad manners to ask, but she couldn’t pull her eyes away, wondering what horrors were hidden beneath his pressed trouser leg. Maybe he had a wooden leg like a pirate. 

“You talk weird,” she spat out instead, in her haste not to call attention to his handicap.

Liam chuckled again, the eye crinkles back. “Well that’s because I’m not from here,” he mused, leaning against his cane and cocking his hip as if he were settling in for a long conversation.

“Where are you from?” Lizzie asked. Her mom always told her that her curiosity would get the better of her. She liked to know everything about everything. She knew she shouldn’t be talking to a stranger, even if it was all Aunt Ruby’s fault for being late. But now there was an interesting man with an accent and a possibly wooden leg who was answering her questions. How was she supposed to run away from that?

“I was born in Scotland,” Liam replied, and Lizzie’s eyes widened with the news.

“My dad was from there!” she exclaimed.

The man suddenly looked a little pale, like he might be sick, his lips slightly parted. Lizzie backed away just in case. 

“Was?” the man finally rasped out, coughing to clear his throat. “He’s not anymore?” 

“He’s dead,” Lizzie said with a shrug. She supposed she should feel sadder about the fact, but it was hard to miss someone you’d never met. She wished she had a dad, but in the same way she wished she had a pony. She didn’t know what it was like to really have one.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Liam returned, swallowing thickly.

“He died before I was born so it’s not a big deal.”

Liam stared at her for a long moment, until she started to feel vaguely uncomfortable. She felt as though he was searching for something, scrutinizing her. 

“Even still,” he said finally. “Family is very important. It’s the most vital thing there is. To lose one’s family is the greatest tragedy.”

Lizzie supposed that was true. Her family only consisted of her mom and her Grandpa Moe who lived back in Australia, but she’d be sad if she lost either of them. 

A sudden thought struck her and it tumbled out over her lips before she could even think it through.

“If you’re from Scotland, maybe you knew my dad!” she exclaimed. Scotland couldn’t be that big. Maybe they were friends. Maybe they were even related.

“It’s a whole country, dearie,” Liam replied with a twist to his lips. 

“But my dad was kind of important, I think,” she surmised, based off her mother’s stories. “Did you know someone named William Gold?”

Liam took a deep breath, as though he were steadying himself for something big. Lizzie bit her lip, leaning forward imperceptibly, wanting his answer more than anything in the world.

“I’ve not heard that name in a long time,” he said sadly. “But yes, I knew him. Many, many years ago.” 

Lizzie felt her heart thumping in her chest. Someone who knew her father! She had so many questions.

“What was he like?” she asked first.

“Just a man,” Liam shrugged. “No better or worse than anyone else. He’d have loved you, though. I can guarantee that much.”

“My mom doesn’t talk about him much,” Lizzie grumbled. “I wish she would. I mean, I’m eight; I’m not a baby anymore. I have a right to know about my own parents.”

Liam nodded.

“You’re all grown up, aren’t you?” he said sadly. Lizzie wasn’t sure she’d go that far. She was still in third grade, and she was short for her age on top of that. Maybe by the time she was in sixth grade she’d feel more like a grown up.

She was about to tell him so when a loud shout interrupted them.

“Elizabeth?” she heard a frantic voice yell. Liam’s face went pale once again. She wasn’t entirely sure he wasn’t sick.

Lizzie backed away from him again and turned toward where the shouting was coming from.

“There you are!” her mother cried, turning the corner, running at her and pulling her into a tight hug. “I was worried sick, baby!”

“I was waiting for Ruby,” she said, her voice muffled against her mom’s shoulder. 

“Oh, sweetie, you don’t stand out here on the street alone,” her mom insisted. “If Ruby isn’t here, you go back to the school to wait, okay?”

“I wasn’t alone,” Lizzie said motioning over her shoulder. “I was with Liam.”

“Who’s Liam?” her mom asked confused. 

“My friend,” she replied. “He’s right over…”

Lizzie’s voice trailed off as she looked over her shoulder. The corner where Liam had been standing was empty. 

“He was right there,” she insisted, pointing out the spot.

“Sweetie, there’s no one there.”

“I didn’t make him up!” Lizzie cried.

“I didn’t say you did,” her mom said, standing up and taking her hand to walk back to her car. “Is he a friend from school?”

“No,” Lizzie said with a shake of her head. “He’s a grownup. His name’s Liam and he’s really nice.”

Her mom stopped walking suddenly, and Lizzie was yanked back by the hand when she kept going.

“Where did you hear that name?” her mom asked.

Lizzie looked up at her mother with wide eyes.

“That’s just his name,” she said with a shrug. “I heard it from him.”

“And he’s not a student?” her mom asked frantically. “Where did you meet this man?”

“Outside of school,” Lizzie said warily. She was beginning to rethink if she should have told her mom about Liam at all. Her reaction was so strange.

“Lizzie, what have I said about talking to strangers!” her mom cried. 

“He’s not a stranger!” she protested. “I’ve seen him a couple times and he said he knew…” she trailed off, not sure if she should bring up her dad yet again. “He knew lots of cool things.”

“Oh, baby, no,” her mom shook her head. She looked frightened and that scared Lizzie. “Absolutely not. The next time you see this man, you run and get a teacher, okay?”

“Why?” Lizzie asked, assured in her conviction that she should have kept her mouth shut.

“Promise me, Elizabeth,” her mom insisted.

“Fine,” Lizzie agreed, crossing her arms against her chest. She didn’t know why her mom was overreacting so much. Liam seemed perfectly nice. He’d had ample opportunity to abduct her and he hadn’t. He didn’t drive a creepy van or offer her candy. He was just nice and answered her questions without telling her they were silly. And something about him seemed sad. She wondered if maybe he was lonely.

Lizzie knew a thing or two about that. She had her friend Jessica, but Jess was one of five kids and always had her brothers and sisters to play with. Ruby was a great babysitter, but she wasn’t like a real friend. And as much as she loved her mom, she worked a lot. Some nights she wouldn’t get home until after Lizzie had gone to bed, and she almost never made it home in time for dinner.  

So Lizzie figured she could use all the friends she could get. If Liam wanted to be her friend, and knew things about her dad, there’s no way she was going to listen to her mom and stay away from him. 

“What are you doing here?” Lizzie asked, suddenly aware of how strange it was for her mom to pick her up from school. “Where’s Ruby?”

“I took the afternoon off,” her mom said, seemingly happy to change the topic away from Lizzie’s new friend. “What do you say to hamburgers for dinner?”

“Okay,” Lizzie replied, still surly. She was already looking forward to the next time she saw Liam. If her mom wouldn’t talk about her dad, maybe at last she’d found someone who would.

* * *

It was a cold October night and the wind bit through Graham’s jacket as he made his way to the docks. He hadn’t been down here in years. It had been a blessed relief to be out from under William Gold’s thumb. He’d owed the man a debt, but as far as he was concerned he’d paid back in spades. 

“You’re late,” came a voice from the shadows, and Graham jumped in spite of himself.

“It took me a while to find the old place,” he lied, coolly.

“I’m sure,” Gold said with a smirk, stepping out of the alley between two warehouses and approaching Graham. He hadn’t seen the man in nearly a decade, only passing along information and receiving a check deposited to his account bimonthly. The payment had always made him feel sleazy, but he needed the money too badly to protest. 

Gold had aged in the past nine years. His hair was long, past his shoulders, and starting to grey. The lines around his face were more pronounced, thrown in to sharp relief in the streetlight overhead. The most startling difference was that the man now limped along with a cane, though he hardly looked like he let the injury slow him down. If anything, the cane added to the aura of mysterious power that Gold had always generated and had only been enhanced with his added years.

“So good to see you, Mr. Humbert,” Gold continued. “How long has it been?”

“Not quite long enough, I’m afraid,” Graham choked out in response. “So you’re back in Boston?”

“Indeed. I found, as time went by, that the very things that had driven me from this city no longer seemed to matter as much.”

“But why come back?” Graham asked. He knew it was futile, knew Gold had already discovered the truth. If not he wouldn’t be here. But some shred of his dignity that was left in his miserable person insisted he try to protect them, even if it was a lost cause.

Gold narrowed his eyes at the younger man.

“You know exactly why, dearie” he said in a dangerous voice. “Is she mine?”

For a moment he considered lying, claiming Elizabeth was someone else’s child, his even. But Gold would discover the truth one way or another, and Graham wanted to be alive to protect them. 

“Yes,” he replied softly, glaring into Gold’s eyes as if daring him to protest.

Gold seemed unsurprised by the news. Perhaps he’d already known and just wanted to force Graham to say it, to own up to the secret he’d kept for nearly nine years.

“You kept my daughter from me,” Gold growled.

“I kept your daughter alive,” Graham shot back. “I would say you owe me, but I didn’t do it for you.”

A look of dawning comprehension passed across Gold’s face followed by a cruel smirk.

“You fell in love with her,” he accused.

“Yes,” Graham agreed, enjoying the way Gold’s eye twitched with barely contained anger. “But not in the way you think. I fell in love with both of them. And I wanted to protect them, especially from you.”

“They didn’t need protecting from me.”

“Didn’t they?” Graham countered. “If you’d known that Belle was pregnant, if you’d known about Lizzie, what would you have done?”

“I’d have come back,” Gold said simply.

“Exactly. And their lives would have been in danger. You would have played happy family and gotten all of you killed. You left to protect Belle, I was just making sure you continued to do that.”

“So he doesn’t know about them?” Gold asked, his voice wavering slightly. “He’s never shown any interest?”

“Very few people know the extent of your relationship with Belle,” Graham assured him. “Even fewer know that Elizabeth is your daughter. I made sure of it.”

“Thank you,” Gold said after a moment, staring down at the gold tipped handle of his cane.

“Like I said, I didn’t do it for you.”

“All the same,” Gold returned.

Graham nodded stiffly, and they stood there in awkward silence for a moment, united in their care for the same woman.

“I’ll expect you to continue in my employment,” Gold said finally. “Unless you have some objection.”

Graham couldn’t contain his disbelief. 

“You want me to spy on her for you?” he asked, aghast.

“I want you to continue what you’ve been doing for the past nine years, yes,” Gold replied, seemingly unconcerned by what he was asking of Graham.

“That was different,” he clarified. “I never thought we’d see you again. You being here changes things.”

“How so, dearie?”

“It feels…wrong,” Graham protested. “And unnecessary. If you want to spy on Belle, do it yourself.”

“You’ve been taking my money under false pretenses for years and you’re going to grow a conscience now?” Gold snarled at him, gold tooth glinting in the dim light.

“I won’t do it,” he insisted, bracing himself for the other man’s anger. Instead, Gold chuckled.

“I’ll double your pay,” he shrugged. “And in return, I want a relationship with my daughter.” 

Graham felt as though his eyes bulged out of his head.

“How the hell do you expect me to arrange that?” 

“You and Belle are apparently close,” he sneered. “You have her ear. Soften her up to the idea.”

“She thinks you’re dead!” Graham nearly shouted. “The whole bloody world thinks you’re dead. How do you prepare someone for a resurrection?”

“Well I don’t want you to tell her the truth,” Gold said, looking at Graham as if he were a simpleton. “Just, get her used to the idea.” 

“Used to the idea that her dead boyfriend is alive and wants to spend time with her daughter?” Graham scoffed. “You’re fucking insane. Besides, we both know what happens if you come out of hiding. And make no doubts about it, if you’re a threat to Belle and Elizabeth, I’ll take you out myself.”

“You’ve no idea what I’ve been up to for the past nine years, dearie,” Gold said with a smirk. “I’m not afraid of anything.”

“That’s the attitude that got you in this mess in the first place,” Graham mumbled.

A moment later he found himself pinned to the side of the warehouse, the handle of Gold’s cane pressed against his throat, cutting off his supply of oxygen. There was a manic gleam in Gold’s eye that he’d never seen there before. Perhaps his accusation of insanity was closer to the truth than he’d realized.

“You think you know anything about what happened?” Gold hissed, his face only inches from Graham’s. “You’re nothing but a little boy I pay to run my errands. Don’t for one moment think you understand me.”

Graham gasped for air, his mind starting to panic. But before his vision could go black, Gold released him. Graham slumped to the ground, choking and sputtering.

“You have work to do, dearie,” Gold spat. “I’ll transfer the money to your account.”

Graham sat there on the cold, dirty pavement, catching his breath, as Gold slinked off back in to the shadows. It looked like more had changed about the man than a few gray hairs and a limp, but he still seemed to get the last word.  


	5. Nothing But Suffering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "One does not love a place the less for having suffered in it, unless it has been all suffering, nothing but suffering." - Jane Austen, "Persuasion"

_Ten Years Ago_

Belle was beginning to wonder if she had a tracking device connected to her. She’d run in to the “elevator man” as she’d taken to calling him no less than 4 times in as many days. It was as though he knew the moment she stepped into a car alone and managed to be there as well. It would have been unnerving if he didn’t make her so annoyed.

Meanwhile, she’d been able to glean a little bit of information about the other main partner, Mr. Gold. Apparently he didn’t spend as much time in the offices as Midas. As the elevator man had told her, he was one of the top criminal defense attorneys in the state, if not the country. He was frequently out of the office meeting with clients, and when he was around, he spent most of his time holed up in his own office on the 48th floor. The man was an enigma, and Belle found herself growing more and more curious the more she learned.

“He’s apparently some kind of genius,” David Nolan told her that Friday as they sat together during their lunch break. “A complete eccentric, you know? He’ll take any case, as long as you can afford him, and let’s just say, that rules out most people.”

“Any case?” Belle asked, disbelievingly. “What are we talking? Murder? Extortion? Organized crime?”

“All of the above,” David agreed. “Some of the scariest people in Boston have him on retainer. And he’s flown all over the country to take on high profile cases. He’s the best there is.”

“At getting guilty people off the hook?”

“At getting people accused of dangerous crime their day in court,” David contested. “Every person deserves a chance to defend themselves and be tried by a jury of their peers. Don’t you agree?”

“I do,” Belle said with a nod. “But I question the integrity of a man who takes on any case that can afford him. What kind of arrogance must he possess? And does he feel no moral obligations, no sense of civic duty to be defending these types of criminals?”

“I wouldn’t go saying that kind of thing too loud,” David cautioned her. “He could be a determining factor in the future of your legal career one day. Don’t you want a job when all this is said and done?”

“Yes, but not at the sake of my soul.”

David chuckled at her, taking a long sip of his diet coke.

“You might be in the wrong profession.”

She parted ways with David after lunch. He was tagging along to a deposition with Abigail and she was headed back up to the office to help one of the attorney’s in estate planning.

She headed in to the elevator, blessedly empty, when a hand suddenly appeared halting the doors from closing.

“Apologies,” the elevator man said, not even looking in Belle’s direction as he slid in to the elevator and pressed the button for the 48th floor.

“I’m sure,” Belle groaned, leaning back against the wall of the elevator car.

The man whipped around, that same infuriating half smile gracing his handsome face.

“You again,” he chuckled.

“Oh don’t act so surprised,” Belle spat. “I’m on to your game, mister.”

“And what game is that?” he asked with an arched eyebrow.

“You’re following me,” she returned, narrowing her eyes. “There’s no other explanation for why we keep ending up sharing an elevator. It’s too much to be coincidence. For some reason you’ve decided to torment me. I’m just not sure why.”

“I assure you it is nothing more than a happy coincidence. Perhaps the universe wants us to be acquainted.”

“The universe doesn’t want anything,” Belle sighed. “It is a random and chaotic place.”

“A beautiful, acerbic Australian with no belief in a higher power? I hit the jackpot with you.”

Belle scoffed. “I don’t think anyone’s ever described me as acerbic before. You must just bring out the worst in me.”

“Or the best,” he returned. “A matter of opinion.”

“So why are you stalking me?” she asked, ignoring the way his words made her feel slightly flushed. “Following strange women into enclosed spaces and forcing them to speak to you does count as stalking doesn’t it?”

“Oh be kind to yourself, I wouldn’t call you strange," he smirked. "And it’s not stalking. Just two people who work in the same building and apparently take a similarly timed lunch break.”

Belle felt her confidence falter. Perhaps it was nothing more than a random coincidence. Perhaps there was no more at play here than a similar schedule. But something about this man made her feel reckless. Belle wasn’t shy, but she had always had a certain caution about her. She played by the rules of social convention and propriety. This man made her want to forget all that.

“You know, the first time I saw you, I thought you were handsome,” she said, surprising herself with her own honesty. “It’s funny how getting to know someone can completely change your perception of them.”

“And you seemed like a shy, retiring delicate flower. How wrong I was.”

Somehow he made that statement sound like anything but a compliment. Belle ripped her eyes away from him, staring at the button panel and wishing the car would reach the 42nd floor before she could say something else foolish.

“You think I’m handsome,” he smirked after a moment of silence.

“Past tense!” she shouted.

It was only after they’d reached her floor and she’d stumbled out of the car, blushing furiously, that she realized he’d been headed to the 48th floor. Belle suddenly had the overwhelming fear that she’d just accidently flirted with a co-worker.

By Monday morning, that fear had metastasized into an overwhelmingly sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. She had to drag herself into work and sat miserably at her desk, trying to focus on her assignments until Regina rushed in, her face positively glowing with excitement.

“They want us in the conference room on the 44th floor,” Regina announced to Belle and David. “Mr. Gold just took on a huge case and they need the interns help.”

“Gold?” David exclaimed, surprised. “They want us to work for Gold?”

“Yes!” Regina nearly screamed. “Hurry up!”

With that Regina ran out the room as quickly as her black pumps would carry her. Belle and David exchanged bewildered glances before jumping up to follow her.

“What on earth could they need us for?” Belle mused, her excitement at the prospect of meeting the mysterious Mr. Gold outweighing her nervous stomach.

“No idea,” David returned as they followed Regina into the elevator. “From what I’ve heard he never takes on interns. I didn’t expect to ever even see the man, much less work on a case with him.”

The butterflies rocketed around Belle’s stomach and she couldn’t help but think about what the man on the elevator had told her. That Gold was a bastard who didn’t get where he was by playing nice. They reached the doors of the conference room and Belle straightened her spine, keeping her chin up and praying to any higher power that she didn’t make a fool of herself.

They cautiously entered the room which was already occupied by several other people. A pretty brunette had her head together with an older gray haired man Belle assumed was Gold, as she scribbled away on a notepad. Another older blonde woman was seated at the conference table leafing through a thick file without glancing up at them. Finally, Belle’s own elevator man was standing in the corner, pouring himself a glass of water before taking a seat.

She felt her stomach plummet. Here she was in her first meeting with _the_ Mr. Gold, and her very own tormenter was there to quite possibly make her look like an idiot. Belle didn’t curse often, but this was a fucking nightmare.

“Ah,” the gray haired man said, looking up from his private conference with the brunette. “You must be the new interns. Have a seat.”

Regina and David sat down quickly and Belle followed suit, trying her hardest to avoid looking at her elevator man. She could feel his eyes on her though and it took all her willpower to listen to the partner when he began to speak.

“You’ve been brought in today because our firm has recently taken on quite a high profile murder case and we're assembling our defense dream team,” the man said bracingly. “I don’t think I need to reiterate that you are employees of this firm and as such the attorney-client privilege does apply to you. Nothing you hear in these sessions should be repeated to anyone.”

All three interns nodded seriously before the man continued.

“As you’ve doubtless heard, Leopold Blanchard was murdered in his home two weeks ago.”

Belle nodded again. Blanchard was one of the richest men in the country. Head of a multinational conglomerate headquartered in Boston, Blanchard had a hand in nearly every major industry on the planet. His death had been all over the news lately, especially since the police had begun to suspect foul play.

“Late last night, Sidney Glass was arrested for the murder of Mr. Blanchard. We’ve agreed to represent him in the ongoing criminal investigation.”

“Sidney!” Regina exclaimed from Belle’s side.

“Do you know him, Miss Mills?” the man asked, eyeing her over the rim of his glasses.

“Not well,” Regina replied with a shake of her head. “He used to work for my family years ago.”

The gray haired man eyed Regina for a long moment before continuing.

“This is not going to be an easy case. Public opinion is already against Mr. Glass. Blanchard was extremely popular in Boston for his charity work and philanthropy. But everyone is innocent until proven guilty. It’s our job to make sure he has a fair trial.”

The interns nodded again at the new information and Belle was momentarily overcome by fantasies of single handedly discovering a key piece of evidence to acquit Mr. Glass, impressing the entire firm and securing a place among their ranks. The pretty image popped like a pinprick in a balloon when she accidently made eye contact with her elevator man again. She’d be lucky to make it out of this summer unscathed.

“Now for the introductions,” the gray haired man continued, smiling widely in contrast with his earlier sobriety. “My name is Michael O’Keefe and I’m one of the senior criminal defense attorneys here at Midas & Gold.”

Belle was a little startled. She’d assumed they’d been speaking with Mr. Gold, but apparently he wasn’t even in the room yet.

“This is my legal assistant Rory Rosenbaum,” he continued, gesturing at the brunette.

“Down at the end of the table you have attorney Mallory Fitz." The woman raised a hand in greeting, but else gave no indication she had noticed the interns presence. "And finally, a man who needs no introduction, our lead attorney and partner Mr. William Gold. Gold, these are our new interns Regina Mills, David Nolan and Belle French.”

“Pleasure,” Gold said with a smirk, his eyes locking with Belle’s. She suddenly felt like the entire room had started to constrict. Her elevator man, the one who was by turns infuriating and charming, the one she had repeatedly insulted and just three days ago called handsome, was her boss. She thought she might be sick.

* * *

_October 2014_

The rest of the week flew by in a haze of too much coffee and not enough sleep. By Friday, Belle was ready to collapse from sheer exhaustion. After she’d lodged a formal complain for Gary’s harassment, he’d mysteriously vanished for the rest of the week. The closing had fallen squarely on her shoulders since she knew the most about the deal. On top of that, she’d had to log long hours finishing up her regular work.

But Saturday dawned bright and unseasonably warm for late October. So that afternoon found Belle camped out on a park bench with Graham while Lizzie played on a nearby jungle gym.

“So, you were going to tell me about the blonde,” Belle said, narrowing her eyes at her friend and taking a noisy sip of her iced tea through a straw.

“Oh was I?” Graham chuckled. “There’s nothing to tell really.”

“She was very pretty,” Belle lead, hoping for more.

“Yes she is.”

Belle just stared at him, waiting for him to continue.

“Her name is Emma and she’s a detective with the Boston PD.”

“And…” she gave up on subtlety, going in for the kill. “Are you going to see her again?”

“Dunno,” Graham shrugged, avoiding her eye.

“Graham, what the hell!” she cried, slapping his arm. “You always do this. You meet some amazing girl and then completely let it fall apart. What’s wrong with you?”

“I’m a loner.”

“You’re lone _ly_ ,” she shot back. “There’s a difference.”

Graham fixed her with a look.

“I’m not lonely. I have you and Lizzie.”

“Oh yes,” Belle sighed, leaning back against the bench. “Your spinster best friend and her charming illegitimate child. That’ll keep you warm at night.”

“Okay,” Graham countered, crossing his arms against his chest. “Two can play this game. What keeps you warm at night?”

Belle bit her lip, considering his question. She had a ready answer, though she wasn’t sure she wanted to give it. She'd long ago come to the conclusion that love and romance weren't in the cards for her. That ship had sailed, so to speak. Wasting time with Gary, dating, none of it mattered because it was a foregone conclusion it would come to nothing. She was simply biding her time, getting through the day. She knew she'd never fall in love again.

“Memories,” she finally said softly.

The playful smirk that had been flitting around Graham’s face during their earlier conversation slipped at that.

“So I guess we’re both lonely then.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and Belle leaned into him.

“I’m not lonely,” Belle protested. “Not enough to settle for something I don’t want. I had true love and I lost it. Once you know what that’s like, there’s no going back.”

“What if you had him back?" Graham said suddenly. "If he walked up to you right now and said he wanted you back, wanted a place in Lizzie’s life. What would you do?”

Belle stiffened at his question. She didn’t like to think about all the things she could never have. It made the stream of water that was always about her ankles start to rise until she thought it might drown her, an entire deluge of regret and sadness and anger over the unfairness of it all. It made it difficult to breathe.

She pulled out of Graham’s arms, taking a deep steadying breath.

“There’s no use thinking about that, is there?” she said by way of answer.

Graham just stared at her for a long moment before shrugging again.

“I suppose not.”

Belle felt she could breathe easier as soon as he let the topic of conversation go, and she leaned against his shoulder once more.

“Besides, if you’re really lucky you might just meet another Gary,” Graham said, wincing when Belle elbowed him hard in the ribs.

“Mom!” Lizzie called from where she was perched on top of the monkey bars. “Watch this!”

A moment later she had flipped upside down, hooking her knees around one of the bars and letting her arms dangle beneath her head.

“Be careful!” Belle called back, cringing at her daughter’s daring streak.

“She’s absolutely fearless,” she muttered to Graham.

They lapsed in to pleasant silence, watching as Lizzie climbed down from the monkey bars and ran in a wide circle around the perimeter of the playground. Belle envied her daughter's energy. She just felt more and more worn down.

“You could always marry me,” Graham said so suddenly that Belle began to choke on her iced tea as it went down wrong.

“Excuse me?” she gasped.

“Why not,” Graham shrugged. “We're both lonely. We get along well. I love your daughter. We could leave Boston, get far away from this place. You can’t tell me you never thought about it.”

“Never thought about marrying you or never thought about leaving Boston?” Belle asked, unsure of where her friend was going with this train of thought.

“Leaving," he clarified. "It can’t be easy for you living here, working in that same damn building.”

She cut Graham off with a hand over his.

“ _One does not love a place the less for having suffered in it, unless it has been all suffering_ ,” she quoted. “And my time in Boston has definitely not been all bad. I did think about leaving, yes. But that feels like giving up. It hurts, but that’s how I know it was real. Does that make sense?”

Graham shook his head, turning his hand around to clasp with hers.

“You’re still so committed to him, even after all this time,” he said wonderingly. “Why?”

Belle shrugged. She couldn’t explain it, not to someone who’d never felt the way she’d felt. It wasn’t as thought they’d broken up and she was still pining away for him. He’d been cruelly taken from her, snatched away when their story was just beginning. Belle had no doubt in her mind that what she and Gold had had was true love, the kind of once in a lifetime event that people search their whole lives for. Perhaps she was looking back with rose tinted glasses, but she didn’t think so. She didn’t love him any less today than she had ten years ago. Her love had not diminished. That meant something.

“He was the love of my life,” she said simply, trying to put it into words. “Nothing since has ever come close. No one has ever made my entire body tingle with just the sound of their voice. He was it for me.”

Graham looked at her sadly, a storm of emotions in his eyes that she couldn’t quite discern. He reached up to cup her cheek softly, forcing her to look at him.

“So I take it that means you won’t run away with me?”

“Sorry,” Belle said, patting him on the arm. “My life is here. You should ask Emma out again.”

Graham turned away, looking back out across the playground. "Maybe you're right."

"I'm always right. Besides, you're entirely too handsome and too nice and too wonderful to be single." 

Belle turned her attention back to the children running and playing in the park, scanning the crowd for the tousled brown curls that would never stay in her ponytail. A quick pass over the playground equipment had Belle's heart hammering in her chest. She stood, suddenly looking around the perimeter of the park. 

“Where’s Elizabeth?” she asked Graham frantically.

“She was just by the monkey bars.”

“Well she’s not there now!” Belle exclaimed. How could she be so careless? She’d only looked away for a moment, engrossed in her conversation with Graham. Now her daughter was gone.

"Elizabeth!" she called, walking quickly around the playground in case Lizzie was hiding in the slide or else trying to torment her mother.  

 Graham rushed off in the opposite direction toward a wooded area, scanning the trees.

As the seconds ticked by, Belle felt her heart beating painfully in her chest, her breathing coming in short gasps. She was panicking, but she couldn't stop it. She couldn't lose Lizzie, she was all she had in this world. Without her daughter she would fade away to nothingness. Tears pricked at her eyes threatening to fall.

"Elizabeth!" she screamed again, bile rising in her throat, her stomach churning at the thought of what could have happened to her daughter.

“I’m right here, Mom!” Lizzie called, trudging over morosely. Her shoelaces were untied, and she was stuffing something into her jacket pocket, but she looked unscathed. Belle felt faint with relief, feeling like the blood that had frozen in her veins in terror was suddenly rushing, warming her extremities too quickly.

“Don’t you ever wander off like that again!” Belle yelled, grabbing her daughter and pulling her into a tight hug.

“I’m fine, Mommy,” Lizzie groused, pushing out of her mother’s embrace. "You're suffocating me!"

“Where were you?” she asked, holding her daughter at arms length and pushing her unruly curls from her eyes.

“Just over there,” Lizzie said, motioning at a cluster of trees near the edge of the playground. “I thought I saw a ferret.”

“A ferret?”

Lizzie nodded. “I thought it might be lost.”

"Never run off like that, do you hear me? Do you have any idea how worried I was?"

"I didn't even leave the park," Lizzie said, rolling her eyes.

"I don't care! You stay in my line of sight at all times. If you want to go somewhere else, you ask for permission. If you don't, you'll be grounded."

"That's not fair!" Lizzie protested.

"Oh it's more than fair, young lady. You're lucky I don't take away TV privileges for a week for that. Now go say goodbye to Graham because we're going straight home."

Lizzie marched over to where Graham was standing across the park, her hands stuffed in her jacket pockets. Her mom was completely overreacting. She'd seen Liam and she wanted to talk to him. If her mom wasn't such a crazy person about her new friend in the first place, she would have just told her so. 

She fingered the heavy gold ring with the blue stone in her pocket. Liam said it had belonged to her dad and he wanted her to have it. He'd also told her not to show it to anyone. She slipped the ring on to her thumb, though it was still too big and slipped off. She'd have to hide it once she got back to her room. There was no way she was going to let her mom know about it.

Gripping the ring in her hand, she already felt closer to her dad. Now she had something of his, something that he'd touched, worn. It was the most of the man she'd ever had. 

* * *

Gold breathed a sigh of relief as he watched Belle pull their daughter away from the playground toward the parking lot. He knew it was careless to come here, careless to follow them. It was true that no one looked for a dead man, especially one dead as long as him. But his proximity to Belle and Elizabeth could only put them in danger.

But he’d always been a selfish and greedy man. Now that he’d met Lizzie, got to know her, he wanted more of her. He wanted his daughter to be his daughter. He was tired of lurking in the shadows, appearing only to Elizabeth and counting on her youth and naïveté to keep his identity safe. But he was already walking a fine line. His daughter was smart, and if he wasn’t careful she’d soon realize who he was. If she told Belle the truth before he was ready…

Well he didn’t want to think about what her reaction would be.

Graham was supposed to be slowly acclimatizing her to the idea, though he knew that was futile. You couldn’t prepare someone to welcome back a dead man. She would be shocked and angry. She would have so many questions he couldn’t yet answer. Not for the first time he wondered if it was worth it. Perhaps he should just stay dead, skip town and leave Belle and Elizabeth to their peace. He had no doubt they were better off without him.

But he wanted them, both of them. He wanted the family he never got to have with Belle. In the nine years he’d been gone, not one day had gone by that he hadn’t thought of her. He still loved her so very much. To see the scorn in her eyes when she realized all of his lies, well, it was too much to think about just now.

He limped his way back to the small dingy apartment he’d sublet near Lizzie’s school. He had money to burn, but was trying to stay incognito. Flipping on the overhead light of the studio apartment did little to improve the place, the flickering yellow fluorescence casting a pallid glow on the off white walls.

The place had come furnished with a small couch and television in a makeshift living area. Behind a folding screen was a double mattress and box springs, lacking a proper bed frame. Getting in and out of the thing was murder on Gold’s ankle and more often than not he found himself stretching out on the too short sofa for a night’s sleep.

Collapsing on that same sofa, he turned to the side table, pulling one of his only personal effects in the apartment toward him. In a small silver frame there was a photograph, yellowed around the edges and crumpled from years spent in his pocket. A young Belle French stared out at him, blue eyes shining and dark hair streaming behind her as she laughed from the bow of his sail boat. It had been one of their last weekends together. Of course, he hadn't realized that at the time. 

If he had, he wouldn’t have wasted time taking photographs. He’d have dragged her down to the cabin and made love to her one more time. He would have told her that he loved her again and again until his voice was raw and he was sure she believed him. If he’d known the end was coming, he’d never have been strong enough to let her go.

Gold smiled, tracing her cheek in the photo with his fingertip. She was so beautiful, and nine years hadn’t diminished that at all. She still looked just as lovely as she had the first day he’d seen her in that elevator and he’d asked which floor. When she’d given him Midas & Gold’s floor, something in him had known that he would one day be hers, utterly and completely. He hadn’t quite planned on it turning out this way, but his heart still belonged to Belle French. That part he’d predicted quite accurately.

Setting the photo down, Gold got up and trudged over to the small kitchenette. Opening up the bottom drawer next to the refrigerator, he moved the contents around, extracting a black bag from the bottom. Straightening, he set the bag on the countertop, opening it and pulling out his Walther PPK and stashing his rifle and other weapons back in the bag.

He'd come back to Boston for Belle French. If he was going to stay, he had to tie up some loose ends. 


	6. Ways and Means

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “One man's ways may be as good as another's, but we all like our own best.” - Jane Austen, "Persuasion"

_Ten Years Ago_

Belle had trouble focusing on the rest of their meeting. There was talk of witnesses and depositions, of evidence and motives, but it all washed over her without leaving an impression. She knew she should pay attention. Next to her, Regina was furiously scribbling down notes, but Belle’s own notepad was blank. Belatedly, she jotted down a couple of things that Mr. O’Keefe had said, but the sinking feeling that she was failing this internship that had plagued her since their first meeting with Midas was back in full force.

She’d spent a week in conversation with her other boss, and hadn’t even realized it. Against her better judgment, her eyes kept being drawn to the man. Mr. Gold. It didn’t help that every time she looked at him, he seemed to already have his eyes on her, a smug, satisfied smirk on his face.

After they were handed out their various assignments for the week, Belle stood and stormed out, wanting nothing more than to get back to her office, curl up under her desk, and die.

“Miss French,” she heard the accented voice call her, and hated the way it set off butterflies in her stomach. Why oh why did he have to have such a lovely voice? Juries probably sided with him on that alone. No wonder he had such a high success rate.

“What?” she asked, spinning around on her heel to face him. Her cheeks felt warm, a week’s worth of embarrassment falling squarely on her shoulders, but even more than that she felt angry.

“I just wanted to tell you what a pleasure it was to properly meet you at last.”

“Why didn’t you tell me who you were?” she demanded, hardly caring that she was hissing at her boss. She’d already ruined any chances she had of a future at this firm, so why stop now?

“And miss out on all your precious banter?” Gold replied with an arched eyebrow. “I would never. And, if you recall Miss French, I offered you my name and you didn’t want it.”

“That’s because I didn’t know who you were,” she said, surly. “If I had, I’d never have…” she trailed off unsure of where to go with that statement. She’d never have insulted him? Called him handsome? Spoken to him at all? Possibly all of the above.

“Exactly,” he conceded. “If you’d known who I was you’d have bowed and scraped and been on your very best behavior. I’d have never had a chance to see the real you behind the sycophantic behavior. I’ve already seen that manic gleam in Miss Mills’ eyes. But I’ve completely avoided it with you.”

“You didn’t see the real me,” Belle countered. “You saw me pissed off and annoyed.”

“People show their true selves when annoyed,” he said with a shrug.

"That's funny. I've always thought you can't know what's in a person's heart until you truly know them. And excuse me, Mr. Gold, but you don't know me at all."

Belle finished, chest heaving with anger and embarrassment and no small amount of fear. She could feel her hands shaking, but Gold didn't seem to notice. He was staring at her as though she’d just done something extraordinary. 

“Well then, let’s change that,” he said finally with a devastating half smile. Despite her anger, Belle felt a fluttering in her stomach and she grinded her teeth together to keep from answering his smile with one of her own.

“What’s going on here?” Mallory Fitz asked, approaching from behind Gold. Belle didn’t think she imagined the way he cringed at the intrusion.

“Just getting to know one of our newest employees,” he returned with a false smile.

“Oh I’m sure,” the older woman said, crossing her arms and leveling Gold with an appraising look.

 “Why don’t you come with me, Miss French,” she continued, keeping her eyes trained on Gold. “We can have a little chat, just us girls.”

Mallory spun on her heel, heading off down the hallway and Belle ran after her, trying to keep up. She could feel a prickling on the back of her neck that told her Gold was still watching her.

“You might want to steer clear of him, dear,” Mallory said, laying a comforting hand on Belle’s shoulder as they turned the corner toward her office. “Wouldn’t want you to get snapped up by the crocodile now would we?”

“Crocodile?” Belle asked, confused.

“The man has a crocodile smile,” Mallory arched a perfectly sculpted eyebrow as they reached the door of her office. “He can lie through his teeth and right when you let your guard down he'll snap you up with a grin on his face. It’s what makes him so efficient at his job. Far be it from me to criticize one of the most brilliant legal minds I’ve ever encountered, but just between us girls, try not to believe a word he says. He’s entirely too charming to be trusted.” 

Belle snorted. “Well he certainly hasn’t charmed me.” 

The corner of Mallory’s lip quirked up in a smile as her eyes swept up and down Belle’s form. She had the uncomfortable feeling the other woman was sizing her up.

“Congratulations, Miss French,” she smirked, ushering Belle into her office. “You’re my new protégé.”

* * *

_October 2014_

Gary Stone stared down into his drink sourly. A little over a week ago his life had been in complete order. He’d had a great job, a beautiful girlfriend, the entire world at his feet. But now, well, all that had changed.

And he owed it all to Belle French.

He scoffed, taking another long swig of liquor, letting it burn down the back of his throat and settle warmly in his belly. A week ago he’d been prepared to marry the little bitch. He’d have even adopted her illegitimate brat, let her carry the Stone name and all that entailed. Instead he was sitting in a shit bar with no job, no fiancée, and, if he didn’t find employment soon, a townhouse he could no longer make payments on.

He’d been good to her, damn it. And after all that she’d turned down his proposal, kicked him in the balls, and had him forced to resign from Midas, Gold & Nolan.

Belle shouldered most of the blame for his current situation, but he found a healthy store of anger for Abigail Nolan. She was only a partner because of who her father was and she was entirely too sensitive about _harassment_. The bitch was probably on the rag.

Gary’s black thoughts turned to his former boss’ incompetence due to her gender and he found a certain amount of joy in imagining catching her in a dark alley somewhere when he was rudely interrupted.

“Gary Stone?” came a voice from beside him.

“Who’s asking?” Gary grunted back, not bothering to look at the source of the voice.

“That’s not important at the moment,” the voice returned. “But you are of great interest to my employers.” 

Gary finally turned to look at the man beside him, his eyes taking a moment to focus. 

“I understand you’ve been intimately involved with a woman by the name of Belle French.”

“What about her?”

“Well, my employer is quite interested in the little bird and even more interested in her little chick.”

Gary sat up at that, giving the man his full attention. He was youngish, probably near Gary’s age or not much older with a scruffy beard, an earring and a leather jacket. He looked like he belonged in a band or maybe a gang in one of those god-awful musicals Belle used to make him watch. The ones where they all snap and dance in formation.

“What does you employer want with a little girl?”

The man shrugged, leaning against the bar on his elbows. “It’s not really my place to ask. I’m just acquiring information.”

“Information like what?” Gary asked, his eyes narrowed.

“The girl’s father. Did Miss French ever happen to mention him?”

Gary sighed, turning back to his drink. The last thing he wanted to think about was Belle and whatever bastard knocked her up and split. 

“I don’t make it a habit of dwelling on my girl’s past mistakes.”

“Oh but information on this particular mistake could be quite lucrative for you,” the man crooned, locking his blue eyes on Gary. Was the poof actually wearing eyeliner?

Whatever his thoughts on his companion's fashion choices, Gary couldn’t argue with something that might get him paid. He had no job and no references. The last thing he wanted to do was crawl back home to his father begging for money. He’d never hear the end of it.

“I’m listening,” Gary acquiesced, downing the rest of his drink.

“Wrack your memory for anything Miss French may have mentioned over the course of your relationship. If possible, speak to her on the subject.”

“We broke up,” Gary grunted. “I don’t think she wants to talk to me.”

“Oh I’m sure you can be very persuasive, Mr. Stone,” the man said amiably. “And if you can’t, I certainly can.” 

He shifted his jacket, revealing a nasty looking hooked knife, almost like a small scimitar.

“It’s a kerambit,” the man grinned, patting his jacket back in to place. “Picked it up in Sumatra. I call it Hook and it’s never let me down. You’re not going to let me down, are you Mr. Stone?”

Gary sized up the man. He was slight, a few inches shorter than Gary himself. He could probably take him. But the man had mentioned an employer and he was in no rush to get on the wrong side of certain people in this town.

“Who is your employer?” Gary demanded, the alcohol burning in his veins giving him courage.

“I can guarantee that if you do your job right, you need never know.”

The man gave him one final smile before turning and heading toward the door.

“I’ll be in touch,” he called over his shoulder. And then he disappeared into the gloom outside the bar.

* * *

Lizzie was curled up on her bed, idly stroking the blue moonstone ring she held in her hand. She’d looked up the kind of gem it was on the Internet.

It felt weird, having something of her dad’s after all this time. Like somehow now he was more real to her. For her entire life, her father had been more of an idea than a living, breathing person. But now she had something of his, something that proved he had lived. It made Lizzie feel sad about her father for the first time. Her mother had loved him and now he was gone. It was a fact she’d long known that only now seemed to hit her.

It made Lizzie sad for her mom most of all.

She wondered how Liam had come to own the ring. He hadn’t had time to explain at the park, just giving it to her and telling her it belonged to her father. She didn’t get to ask half her questions before her mom started yelling for her and Liam had shooed her away.

She wasn’t sure why Liam was secretive around her mom either but it didn’t seem right. Mom might not like to talk about her dad, but surely meeting someone else who knew him would be good for her. She’d been sad by herself for so many years. Maybe it was time to share the sadness and make it a little easier to hold.

Lizzie resolved to talk to Liam about it the next time she saw him. But it had been almost a week since he gave her the ring and there’d been no sign of him since. If she didn’t have the ring as proof, she’d have started to think he was imaginary after all.

“Lizzie!” came her mom’s voice from the hall. “Ruby is here!”

She scrambled to stuff the ring back in the little jewelry box her grandpa had given her for her fifth birthday and slid it under her bed. She’d only just popped back up on the bed, leaning against the pillows and trying to look cool, when her mom walked in.

“What are you doing?” her mom asked with narrowed eyes. 

“Nothing!” she exclaimed, motioning around at the empty bed. “Just sitting.”

“Mhmm,” her mom agreed, still looking skeptical. “Come on downstairs. The movie starts in an hour and Ruby wants to get dinner first.”

Lizzie dragged herself off the bed and trudged down the stairs after her mom. It was Friday night and she was going to the movies with Ruby and Granny, then spending the night with them at their brownstone.

“Why can’t I just stay here?” she whined. She loved Ruby, but she’d rather just stay in her room tonight.

“Because Ruby wanted you to visit and Granny hasn’t seen you in a while. It’ll be fun!” her mom said brightly. 

Lizzie did her best not to glower at her mother, but it was a hard fought battle. 

Ruby smiled at her, giving her a big hug and promising hamburgers and milkshakes, but Lizzie still wasn’t feeling it. By the time she was ushered out into Ruby’s car, she was in a more rotten mood than ever. She wished she could see Liam, but he appeared to have abandoned her.

* * *

Belle watched as her daughter shouldered her bag and headed out the door after Ruby. In truth, she didn’t want her to go. She’d have loved to spend the evening curled up on the couch watching My Little Pony with her daughter. But Ruby had insisted she needed a night off. 

She had to admit she’d been running herself ragged the past two weeks. Work had been stressful, she’d just been through a break up, and Lizzie was acting strangely.

She’d tried talking to her daughter about what was going on, but the kid was like a steel trap. Ever since the incident at the park the previous weekend, it was like Lizzie was a different kid, sulking up in her room, hiding things from Belle. She hadn’t the foggiest idea of what was going on and only hoped her daughter might be more open with Ruby, though the thought sent a splinter right through her heart. Her baby was only eight. It was too soon for them to be drifting apart.

She headed to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of wine while she mulled over her thoughts. Lizzie had obviously been up to something when she’d walked into her room earlier. It would be so easy to run upstairs and check through Lizzie’s room. But Belle had lived eighteen years under the roof of a controlling father. She always swore she’d never be that kind of parent to her own kids. She wanted to trust Lizzie, but she was just a child. Who knew what kind of trouble she could be getting in to?

She took a long gulp of wine, steeling herself for the moment, that one where she became her parents.

“Yep,” she said to herself, slamming the wineglass down on the counter. It was time to see just what had gotten in to her daughter.

She felt like she was walking up the stairs in slow motion. The memory of her father reading through her journal when she was fifteen reared its head from the depths of her mind. She’d been so furious with him at the time, but looking back she could understand why he’d done it. Her mother had just passed and she’d retreated in to herself. Neither she nor her father were good with expressing grief and the communication between them had reached an all time low. Her dad had only wanted to know what was going on inside her head. But it was still a violation of her privacy that she’d never forgotten.

She stopped outside Lizzie’s room, taking a deep breath before pushing open the door. The room was just as her daughter had left it, the bedspread slightly mussed from where she’d been sitting. Belle walked forward, glancing around the room for any signs of something out of the ordinary.

Glancing down, she noticed that the rug next the bed was flipped up at one corner, as though someone had tripped over it. Dropping to her knees, Belle peered under the bed finding misplaced socks, crumpled up coloring pages and dust bunnies. Lizzie really needed to clean up under there.

But close to the foot of the bed was something odd; a pink and white jewelry box covered in hand painted roses that her father had given Elizabeth a few years ago. What was that doing stuffed under here with so much junk?

She reached for the box, pulling it towards her curiously. Just as she was about to open it, the doorbell rang downstairs.

Belle pulled her hands away as if she’d been burned. What was she doing? Her daughter was eight years old. What could she possibly be hiding? It wasn't as though her third grader had some secret double life. She was a child. 

She shook her head at her own paranoia, pushing the jewelry box back under the bed. She was glad of the distraction really. She was obviously moments away from losing her mind.

She ran down the stairs, figuring Lizzie had forgotten something, when the bell sounded again. Rushing to the front door she threw it open, stopping short at the sight that awaited her on the doorstep.

“Gary!” she exclaimed.

“Belle,” he returned with a shy grin, a dozen red roses clutched in one meaty hand.

Oh, this wasn’t good. This wasn't good at all.

* * *

The night was dark, especially on this end of town. The man couldn’t have picked a seedier area to live, but what did one expect from a gambling addict with a noticeable tell? Bluffing and expensive taste could only get you so far in this world.

One pathetic street lamp gave off a flickering light, hardly enough to banish the shadows that seemed to churn and thrive like a living creature. Gold turned up his coat collar against the cold night air, limping down the street with one hand concealed in his pocket. The cool handle of his gun gave him a certain amount of reassurance. In his life before, he’d never been a violent man. But over the past nine years he’d learned to take care of himself. He’d learned to take back what was his. This night was no different from countless others. 

He finally found himself in front of a dank apartment building, thanking his lucky stars that the man only lived on the second floor of this hellhole. He didn’t think his ankle could take much of the stairs.

As he climbed the stairs, hand still fisting the solid weight of the gun in his pocket, his thoughts perversely turned to his daughter. What kind of man was he? What kind of father could he possibly be? If that sweet girl could see him now, she’d be fucking terrified. She’d run away so fast she’d look like a blur and with his ankle, he’d never keep up.

Gold pushed those thoughts down. The things he’d done, everything he planned on doing, it was all for family. If there was one thing he appreciated in this life, it was the bond of blood. That was something he would never willingly forsake.

Reaching the correct door at long last, he lifted the handle of his cane to rap sharply.

A scuffle sounded inside the apartment, something like the scrape of furniture and the sudden flurry of activity. Grimacing, Gold raised his cane to knock again.

A moment later the door opened just a crack, the security chain still in place. One blue eye peered out at him from the dimness of the apartment, bleary at first then widening with recognition and then even more so with shock.

“You…” the owner of the eye sputtered. “What the…fuck!”

“Yes, yes, I’m alive, it’s a miracle,” Gold deadpanned. “Now aren’t you going to invite me in?”

The eye narrowed at that, sweeping up and down Gold’s form before seeming to come to a decision.

“Whatever the hell happened to you, I want no part of it.”

“See, I was afraid you’d say that,” Gold growled, before jabbing his cane through the crack in the door right into the flesh beneath the other man’s throat. He reeled back, sputtering, and Gold used the opportunity to throw his slight weight against the door, once, twice, before the shitty little latch gave way and the door sprang open. 

“Is that any way to treat an old friend?” Gold asked, entering the apartment as he pulled out his pocket square and wiped off the handle of his cane to free it from the disgrace of having touched the man’s door.

“Friend?” the man rasped, rubbing at his throat with one hand. “Is that what we are?”

“Close enough,” Gold shrugged as the man continued to stare daggers at him.

“It’s a shame your last novel did so badly,” he continued, glancing around at the apartment’s peeling wallpaper and ratty furniture. “The once promising August Booth brought so low. It seems you can only live the fast life for so long before it catches up to you.”

“You’d know all about that, it seems,” August glowered. “What do you want?”

“I’ve been out of Boston for a while,” he said with a flourish. “I’ve kept an eye on the place, of course, but I need insider information on some of our mutual friends.”

“And what makes you think I’d tell you anything? There are people who would pay me very well just for the knowledge that you’re alive.”

“I’m sure. But they don’t know you the way I do, dearie.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” August asked. 

“Just because you’re down on your luck doesn’t mean you’ll stay that way. And when your star begins to rise again, you might regret being on my bad side.”

August was still looking at him blankly, so Gold continued.

“You used to engage in a certain amount of _tourism_ when you had the money for it. A certain trip to Cambodia comes to mind.”

“What of it?” Booth bluffed, but the man never had much of a poker face. It was the reason he found himself in such dire straits now. 

“You should know I always keep tabs on my friends,” Gold replied coolly. “You never know when you might need…leverage.”

Booth paled, his face white as a sheet beneath his scruffy beard.

“So, do we have a deal?”

The younger man nodded, his mouth slightly agape.

“Wonderful,” Gold exclaimed, clasping his hands over the top of his cane. “So first things first. You’re gonna tell me where he is, and you’re gonna tell me who I have to kill to get to him.”

Booth nodded again, falling back to sit on the ratty sofa with a dull thud. Gold kicked the apartment door shut behind him. It was time for answers. 


	7. A Good Sort of Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "If one scheme of happiness fails, human nature turns to another; if the first calculation is wrong, we make a second better: we find comfort somewhere." Jane Austen, "Mansfield Park"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long delay on this story. I reached a point where the groundwork had been laid and I seriously needed to figure out where it was all leading to. That's been done, so now full steam ahead! I got distracted with holidays and Rumbelle Secret Santa and other WIPs, but now I'm back!
> 
> This story has been nominated for Best AU and Best Fic in The Espenson Awards on tumblr! A huge thank you to everyone who nominated it, and if you're so inclined, I'd be thrilled to pieces if you'd consider voting for it in either category.

_Ten Years Ago_

Belle spent the next three weeks of her internship in a frenzy. She, David and Regina were loaded up with so much work that she was beginning to think of their small office as more of a home than her own apartment.

Mallory, or Mal as she'd told Belle to call her, had been true to her word, taking Belle under her wing and dragging her along to depositions, court dates and witness interviews. It was thrilling, and Belle was excited to have finally made a good impression on one of her superiors. But Mal worked closely with Gold which meant Belle was often thrown into his path as well.

Despite Mal's warnings against the man, the two seemed friendly, or as friendly as a dragon and a crocodile could ever possibly be. They had a good working relationship and a rapport that had Belle’s eyes bouncing back and forth between them like she was watching a tennis match any time they squared off against each other.

Mal was a safety net in her interactions with Gold. When he spoke to her, it was mainly about work and she’d managed to avoid being alone with him in the elevator ever since the truth of his identity had been revealed. She was even starting to relax. Until one Thursday when she was told she’d have to work late, preparing to depose the prosecution’s key witness, Leopold Blanchard’s long time housekeeper Johanna.

Mal was headed out for the night to a gala for a charity she was involved with that rescued and rehabilitated injured horses. That meant Belle was required to stay alone with Gold preparing for tomorrow’s deposition.

“I’m sorry, darling,” Mal said as Belle helped to zip her into a dress that would have made a nice down payment on an apartment in the city. “I hate leaving you here alone with him, but I have to put in an appearance at this gala. I’ll try to leave early and get back here.”

“It’s fine,” Belle said through clenched teeth as Mal spun around to face her, yards of crimson fabric swishing around her. “I’m not afraid of him.”

“Oh I know that,” her mentor said with a little laugh. “Just promise me you’ll try not to yell at him. Or fuck him.”

Belle nearly choked on her own tongue.

“Excuse me?”

“He likes you,” Mal said, cocking her head. “And that worries me.”

“What, is he a womanizer or something?”

“Gold?” Mal snorted. “Absolutely not. I think his past dalliance with Cora Mills cured him of any of that.”

“Gold dated Regina’s mother?” Belle asked in disbelief. The woman must be at least ten years older than him. “But she’s married to Henry Mills.”

Mal just smiled at her with a toss of her long blonde hair. “It’s cute that you think that matters.”

Belle wasn’t exactly sure what to do with that information. She wondered if Regina knew about Gold’s relationship with her mother. Somehow she thought not.

“Now are you sure you can handle Gold?” Mallory asked, leveling her with a stare.

“Well I certainly can’t promise not to yell at him,” Belle smirked.

“That’s my girl,” she replied with a wink. And then she sauntered off with a swish of her long skirts.

That evening found Belle sitting across from Mr. Gold in his office, scanning through documents on her laptop as Gold rifled through a thick file folder on his desk.

After working in silence for several long minutes, Gold looked up at her with a smirk.

“Are we going to confront the elephant in the room?” he asked.

“I beg your pardon?”

“The fact that you’ve been avoiding me,” he replied, settling back in his big leather armchair.

“Avoiding you?” Belle sputtered. “I see you every day.”

“Yes,” he shrugged. “But you keep Mal around as a buffer. I miss our conversations.”

“You mean you miss harassing me in the elevators whilst concealing your identity?”

“I never concealed anything, Miss French,” he said with a smile. “In fact, if you’d used context clues you should have figured it out much sooner. Don’t blame me for your failings. You’re gonna have to get better at reading people if you’re going to make it in this profession.”

Belle gaped at him for a long moment, trying to decide if that had been an insult or not.

"Well, from the moment you met me you didn't think I was cut out for this job," she pointed out. "I believe your exact words were that a _pretty little thing_ like me would be chewed up and spat out." 

Gold just waved away her words with a theatrical little flourish. 

"I didn't mean it," he said. "It was a test, one you passed with flying colors by the way."

"Is every one of our exchanges going to be a test?" she asked, annoyed. "Should I perhaps take notes every time we exchange pleasantries, I'd hate to be caught unawares."

Gold chuckled. "I don't think you have to worry about us ever exchanging pleasantries, dearie. But this is an internship. You have the benefit of learning from the best."

As much as she wanted to, she couldn't disagree with him. For all his faults, and she was certain Gold had many, he was great at his job. Here she was with the opportunity to learn at the feet of the master and she was spending her time arguing with him. 

She turned back to her laptop screen, worrying her bottom lip.

"You're doing fine, Miss French," he sighed, after she'd stayed silent for several long moments. "This job is equal parts preparation and instinct. Don't doubt yours. You didn't like me that first day in the elevator."

"And that's a good thing?" she asked.

Gold just shrugged. "My mother always told me I was difficult." 

“And here I thought you just spawned in a swamp somewhere,” she intoned, taking a sip of water.

“Is that a dig at my accent?” he asked, arching an eyebrow at her. It was a conscious effort for Belle not to spat her water all over his desk.

“You’ve seen Shrek?” she asked disbelievingly. He certainly didn’t seem the type to frequent children’s movies, or go to the movies at all come to think of it.

“I do have a child,” he returned with a shrug.

“Oh,” Belle said, stunned. “I didn’t realize.”

“Is that so surprising?” he asked, eyeing her over the rim of his glasses.

“No,” Belle stuttered. “You just don’t quite seem like the family sort.”

“Well I do live to surprise you,” he said, standing up and crossing the office to one mahogany bookshelf where he picked up a framed photograph.

“His name’s Bailey,” he continued, walking back to her and handing her the picture. “Just turned thirteen last week.”

Belle took the photograph, glancing down to see a handsome young boy in a soccer uniform. His hair was darker than his father’s and curly, but there was something very similar about their eyes.

“He looks like you,” Belle observed.

“Now you’re being kind,” Gold chuckled, taking the picture back from her and setting it on the edge of his desk. “He had the good sense to take after his mother. In looks anyway.”

This was an unexpected new side to Gold. To think that the man had a family, it completely skewed her earlier perceptions of him. She’d never seen him wear a wedding ring or mention a wife, and the slight tinge of bitterness that invaded his tone when he mentioned his son’s mother led her to believe he was divorced. But there was no harm in digging.

“And what does your wife do?” Belle asked, attempting nonchalance and probably failing miserably.

“Spends my money,” he said with a shrug, moving back behind his desk and taking a seat. “We divorced when Bailey was seven. Since then she’s had a steady string of increasingly dangerous boyfriends but she’s held off on marrying any of them lest she lose her lucrative monthly spousal support payments.”

Belle nearly choked on her water yet again. One of the best lawyers in the country had an unfavorable divorce settlement? His ex-wife must be a gorgon. 

“You’re telling me there’s not a single family law attorney in this firm that could renegotiate the terms of your divorce?”

“Oh I could do it myself," he agreed, confusing Belle further. "But she let me have full custody of Bailey. If I took away her money, she’d take away my son. I won’t put Bailey through another custody trial. Milah might be a terrible human being but she’s still his mother. I don’t want him to hate her.”

“I’m sorry,” she said with a shake of her head. “I didn’t mean to dredge up the past if it’s painful.”

He leaned forward, his elbows against his desk and his eyes latching on to Belle's. The room suddenly felt several degrees warmer and she fidgeted under the intensity of his gaze. 

“The past is almost always painful," he said. "I find it’s how we move on from it that defines who we are.”

Belle couldn't look away from those brown eyes, a slim ring of gold circling his irises. The man had been such an enigma at first, before she knew who he was. Then she'd cast him as the villain of her tale, out to derail her career before it started. But the man that sat before her now, professing such love for his son was neither enigma nor villain. He was just a man, and she thought a sad one at that. 

“You know," she said slightly breathlessly. "You’re not quite who I thought you were.”

“Well you thought me to be a swamp dwelling ogre, so I can only hope that’s a good thing," he shot back.

“A very good thing,” she giggled.

He smiled at her, a little crooked half smile that set her heart beating faster in her chest. His long hair fell across his brow as he looked down almost shyly. Suddenly her promise to Mal not to yell at him seemed quite easy. It was the other half of that promise that loomed like a specter about to descend on her.

“Miss French,” he began.

“You can call me Belle,” she interrupted, swallowing the lump that seemed to have formed in her throat.

“Belle,” he smiled around her name, the word coming out mellifluously. It struck her that her name on his lips was the most beautiful sound in the world. “I suppose you can stop with this Mr. Gold business and call me William.”

“And if I call you Willie?” she asked flirtatiously, barely believing her own nerve.

Gold just narrowed his eyes at her.

“You can try, but I certainly won’t answer to it. If you must shorten my given name I prefer Liam.”

“Liam,” she agreed, smiling at the name. It suited him. And it felt like with that simple exchange, something had changed infinitesimally between them.

She realized a moment later that they were still staring at each other. The dumb little smile slipped from her lips and she looked down at the laptop screen in front of her, blushing slightly.

Liam cleared his throat, rifling through papers on his desk and Belle chanced a glance up at him. It warmed her heart to see that he was blushing too.

No, he definitely wasn’t who she thought he was. And she was glad. 

* * *

_October 2014_

There were few people in the world Belle would be more surprised to see on her doorstep on a Friday night than Gary Stone. She'd broken up with him, refused his attempts to get back together, launched a frontal assault on his bollocks when he wouldn't take no for an answer, and filed sexual harassment charges against him to boot. Since then he'd been quietly let go from the firm. 

And yet here he was, flowers in hand, winning, perfect smile affixed to his face. Belle felt slightly nauseous.

“Gary!” she exclaimed.

“Don’t slam the door on me,” he pleaded, hands up in supplication. “I promise I don’t mean any harm.”

“What are you doing here?” she asked, keeping the door opened just a crack so she could easily close it if needed.

“I just wanted to apologize," he said, dropping his hands to his sides like stones. "I wasn’t myself last week and I’m sorry.”

Belle huffed out a little breath, leaning against the doorway. She wasn’t about to let Gary into her living room, apology or no.

"I accept your apology," she said stiffly, crossing her arms against her chest. "But you really didn't need to stop by."

"I wanted to give you these," he said, extending the flowers toward her once more.

"Thank you," she replied, taking the flowers, but still not moving to invite him in.

Gary looked bereft without the roses, as though he wasn't sure what to do with his hands. They stood there awkwardly for a long moment. Belle was strongly considering shutting the door when Gary finally spoke again. 

"Look, I realize how out of line I was and I am sorry." The man was almost groveling, his blue eyes boring into Belle's pleadingly. “I don’t want to lose your friendship, Belle, regardless of if things didn’t work out between us.” 

Belle was torn. She didn't trust him as far as she could throw him and she certainly didn't want to be alone with him. But it wasn't in her nature to be unforgiving. 

"As I said, I accept your apology, Gary," she said measuredly. 

"Can I come in?" he asked, finally, and Belle unconsciously shifted her body back behind the protection of the door. "Can we talk?"

"Is there really anything left to say?"

"Not about us," he said, hanging his head. "Believe me, I'm well aware of your thoughts on that subject. It's just, I lost my job. Deservedly so, I realize that. But that job was my life. I don't have a lot of friends outside of you and I'm feeling..." he paused, shaking his head. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come here. Thank you for being so understanding."

Gary turned to leave and something inside of Belle couldn't bear to see him so dejected. She may not have returned his feelings, but Gary had been her friend. She cared about him, in spite of his pigheadedness.

"Wait," she called after him. "Come in. We can talk, but _just_ talk."

Gary's face lit up like she'd just offered him the world as she slowly opened the front door and backed up into the foyer.

A half hour later they were installed on her couch, her bottle of wine half empty. She'd forgotten how entertaining Gary was to talk to, as long as you kept it to trivial, mundane matters. It was part of the reason she'd enjoyed spending time with him. A nice way to clear your head and not think about anything too deeply. It was an admirable quality in an acquaintance, but not something you wanted in a marriage partner.

"So the next thing we know, my brother Jason has climbed up on the roof insisting that at just the right angle, you actually can see Russia from our Alaskan property. Then my girlfriend at the time, Marie, gets up there with him, only she's in heels. Winds up sliding off the roof and clinging to the side for a solid ten minutes before Jason can pull her back up."

"That sounds like quite the Thanksgiving," Belle chuckled into her wineglass.

"Doesn't it?" Gary grinned back. "We don't let Jason drink bourbon anymore, he clearly can't handle it. And wouldn't you know, Marie was so grateful to him for _saving her life_ , that she ends up sleeping with my brother and dumping me. They've been married three years now."

"Wow," Belle said, for lack of something better. She wanted to keep the conversation light, keep it from steering toward any of Gary's other failed relationships, namely theirs.

"Yeah, I never have had much luck in that department," he returned morosely. "What about you, Belle? Now that we're not together we can talk about these things."

Belle just shrugged. "There's not much to tell."

"Well Lizzie didn't just spring out of the ground," Gary snorted at his own joke and Belle rankled at the mention of her daughter's name. She hadn't quite forgiven him for the insults he'd laid against her as a single mother. "You've never mentioned her dad. What's his story?"

"He's not around," Belle replied truthfully. "Why talk about him?"

"I get it," Gary nodded. "Deadbeat who wasn't up to the task."

Belle flinched at his assertion but didn't contradict him. She had no intention of offering up any information on William. She didn't owe Gary that piece of herself.

"See I can't imagine you with a guy like that," Gary continued, oblivious to her discomfort. "But I guess you were young and naïve."

"Something like that," Belle said, putting down her wineglass and sitting forward. She'd done her duty, listening to Gary mope. She'd cleared her conscience. It was time for him to go.

"So what was his name?" Gary asked, taking another swig of wine.

"I'd really rather not talk about it," she replied, eyeing the clock on the mantle and hoping Gary would take a hint. But the man had never been particularly perceptive.

"Oh come on, Belle," he said spreading his arms wide. "I told you about -- shit!" he exclaimed. While gesturing with his wineglass, he'd managed to upend it, splashing red wine down the front of his shirt, some of it dribbling on to the fabric of Belle's cream colored sofa.

Gary jumped up, darting away from the sofa.

"I am so, so sorry, Belle."

"It's fine," she sighed, getting up and heading to the kitchen for towels and cleaning solvent. She was glad for the excuse to be out of Gary's presence as she rummaged around under the kitchen sink for a bottle of spot remover. Why the sudden interest in her past relationships when he'd paid no mind to them while he was actually dating her? He'd never shown the least bit of interest in Lizzie's father before other than knowing he wasn't involved in their lives. The questions didn't sit right.

Liam had once told her to trust her instincts, and right now her instincts were screaming that something about this situation was very wrong.

By the time she made it back to the living room, Gary had removed his button down and was standing awkwardly next to the sofa in his undershirt.

"I'll pay to have your upholstery cleaned," he said.

"I have an eight year old," Belle returned, matter-of-factly. "Trust me when I say this sofa has seen worse."

Gary just nodded as Belle set to work on getting the stain out.

"Well, I guess I'll get out of your hair. Thanks again."

Gary had bolted out the front door a moment later, and Belle was too relieved to have him gone to wonder at his hasty exit.

* * *

August Booth was a spineless, sniveling, selfish wretch who would sell out his own mother if meant he'd keep his head afloat. He'd relied for a long time on good looks and passable talent with the written word, but luck, as it often did, had run out. And so here he was, cowering in his own home from a man he'd thought long dead.

Gold hated the very sight of him. But you could generally trust a dishonest man to be dishonest. As long as you didn't believe a word that came out of the man's mouth, Booth was a veritable wealth of information. 

"Look, I'm honestly not doing much business with them these days."

Gold took a glance around the dingy apartment. "I believe it."

"Then why me?" he asked. "Surely there's someone higher up you want to question."

"Certainly, Mr. Booth, but we both know you're a terrible liar. I can trust you because you can't lie to me. You're also so easily intimidated that I don't have to worry about killing you now that you know I'm alive. You see, it works out well for both of us."

Booth grimaced at Gold's words, but didn't protest.  

"These days I take my marching orders from a guy named Keith Knotts," he finally said with a sigh. "You want more information, you should talk to him. He's a bit of an idiot but he's loyal to a fault. Owes a lot to the big man. But he'll spill secrets to any decent looking brunette in a short enough skirt."

"Pity, all my dresses are at the cleaners," Gold quipped. "So how does that help me?"

"Well then try your trademark intimidation technique," Booth shot back with a mirthless smile. "The man's a coward. Press him hard enough, he'll probably talk."

"A dangerous man to have in your employ if short skirts and torture work so easily on him," Gold mused. When he'd left Boston, it was with powerful and dangerous enemies behind him. The man he'd known nine years ago never would have kept on someone who was a liability. He'd have either found himself taking the fall for someone or, more likely, at the bottom of a landfill somewhere.

"Things aren't the way they were before," August said with a shake of his head. "The whole organization is on its last legs. Ever since what happened with Daniel, things have started to slip. The sharks are circling and I don't know how much longer it can last."

Gold doubted things were as dour as all that. Booth did have a certain penchant for exaggeration, after all. But if Keith Knotts proved as easy to break as the writer had hinted, it meant Gold was facing a significantly weaker enemy. 

"That's excellent news, Mr. Booth."

"No one will say what they're thinking because everyone's still too scared," August continued, puffing his chest out as though confiding this information in someone who currently had a gun trained on him counted as nerve. "But Zorza's got to be all but finished."

"Fear is a powerful motivator, as you well know," Gold countered. "If people still fear him, he's not in the ground yet."

August just shrugged. "I haven't seen Zorza myself in months. God only knows what's going on up there. I don't hear much and what I do is second and third hand. If you want better information, check with Keith.

Gold eyed him for a long moment, but either Booth had gotten a whole lot better at lying or he was telling the truth. He really didn't know anything.

"Where can I find Mr. Knotts?" he asked.

"He's usually skulking around down near The Rabbit Hole. He has a couple girls that work for him down there and he likes to sample the merchandise."

Gold repressed a shudder, surprised that particular den of iniquity was still in business. If Keith Knotts was a patron, much less a business partner there, he'd have no trouble doing what he needed to get answers. 

"Thank you for your help, Mr. Booth," he said, standing to leave. "It's been most enlightening."

"I've got to ask," August called out as Gold made his way to the door. "Why'd you do it?"

"Do what?" Gold growled back, turning to face the younger man.

"Let him off," August clarified. "The whole thing was tied up with a pretty little bow. They had the evidence to put him away, half the Boston P.D. was in on it, the district attorney didn't care who went to jail as long as someone answered for it. All you had to do was keep quiet. But instead you sacrificed your whole damn life, and for what? Sidney Glass of all people?"

"I don't suppose a value for the rules of ethics is in your wheelhouse," Gold shot back.

August let out a snort. 

"Ethics? With the kind of attorney you were when you were on top? What's the real reason."

Gold narrowed his eyes at the man, his knuckles white around the head of his cane.

"I had a conscience then," he ground out. "Pity for you I've lost her."

Booth paled a little at that, sitting back in his chair and shutting his mouth. 

"Good evening, Mr. Booth." 

He opened the door, heading out into the dimly lit hallway and down onto the street. The true answer to Augusts' question was easy. Belle. She had always managed to bring out the best in him, but he couldn't afford that now. To do what he needed to do, he couldn't be his best self. Belle had believed he was a good man, but to protect her he'd proven the opposite was true. He had to resign himself to the fact that as much as Belle may have loved him once, she would despise the man he'd become. Once upon a time, he'd gone out of his way to do the right thing, for her. And he'd been paying for that good deed every day since.

No, sometimes you could only do right by a person by succumbing to your darkness. He had to be ruthless, a man whose hands were stained with blood and whose conscience had been silent for nine long years. 

* * *

Gary threw his ruined shirt on to the back seat of his car before climbing in to the front and pulling out of Belle's driveway. He wasn't happy that he'd had to ruin one of his best shirts, but if everything worked out he'd have plenty of cash to buy another.

He slipped a hand into his pocket, pulling out the single spare house key Belle always kept in the top drawer of her entertainment center. If she wouldn't talk about her child's father, he'd find another means of discovering just who the man was. It didn't escape his notice that Belle was intentionally hiding something. It was more than just a broken heart and bad memories. There was a story there, and Gary was going to figure it out.

 


	8. A Little Mistaken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Seldom, very seldom, does complete truth belong to any human disclosure; seldom can it happen that something is not a little disguised, or a little mistaken." - Jane Austen, "Emma"

_Ten Years Ago_

Six weeks. In the end it only took six weeks before Belle French was inexplicably and irrevocably fucked.

She hadn’t expected it. Their first few meetings had told her Gold was a bastard on a power trip, lording over his new employee and enjoying watching her squirm.

But then he’d told her about his son. And it was almost as if the floodgates had opened.

She had an enormous crush.

It would have been enough that he was handsome and smarter than anyone she’d ever met. But then he had to go and be complicated on top of it.

Belle was a sucker for a man with layers, and Liam Gold had them in spades. Externally he appeared to be a suave defense attorney, always ten steps ahead of everyone else and enjoying the position. But the more time Belle spent with the man, the more she detected something else. A sadness behind his brown eyes that he masked with playful banter. An overwhelming love for his child. Loneliness. 

God help her, but she wanted to be the cure.

She’d taken to staying late at the office. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen Ruby even though they allegedly lived together. Sidney Glass had been officially indicted for the murder of Leopold Blanchard by a grand jury, and they were working overtime in preparation for trial. There was a brief moment of horror when Sidney had claimed he wanted to enter a plea of guilty at his arraignment, but twenty minutes alone with Liam had cured him of that urge.

“He didn’t do it,” Liam said one evening as they were sitting in one of the many conference rooms, files spread out over the table. Mal had headed out to grab coffee, David and Regina had been pulled off to help Abigail with a business merger, Mr. O’Keefe was at his son’s violin recital and Rory was celebrating her anniversary with her girlfriend, Mulan.

There really wasn’t any reason for Belle to still be there. They had months before they’d go to trial. Discovery was ongoing. But somehow she liked these late nights. It was the one time a day where Gold let his mask slip and he became Liam. No one else called him that, she realized. She felt a private little thrill anytime she used the nickname. It was just theirs.

“Well, that’s good, isn’t it?” she replied. “It’s always better to be defending an innocent client.”

Liam smiled sadly, a pained look crossing his brown eyes.

“It doesn’t happen often, I can tell you.” 

“If he’s innocent, why did Sidney want to plead guilty?” she asked, leaning forward on her elbows. 

Liam shrugged. “Thought it was easier, I suppose. Or he was attempting to cover for someone.” 

Belle’s ears perked up at that. “You think Sidney knows the identity of the real killer?”

He shrugged again, bracing his hands against the table as he stood and headed toward the sideboard to pour himself a cup of tea. 

“We aren’t the police, Belle. Our only job is to provide reasonable doubt.” 

Belle just shook her head. “But if Sidney knows who the killer is, why wouldn’t he say something? Why would he take the fall for someone else?”

Liam arched an eyebrow at her. “Why indeed?”

They were silent for a long moment. Liam put his teacup down and turned toward her.

“It’s late, dear. Why don’t you go home?”

“There’s not much to go home to,” Belle said, biting her lip. “I like being here.”

A smile tugged at the corner of Liam’s mouth, his eyes softening.

“You like being stuck in a conference room with your curmudgeonly boss on a Friday evening?” he chuckled. “You are a strange girl.”

Belle bristled slightly. Not at his description of her as strange, she was used to that. It was the use of the word “girl”. Like she was some young thing. For all that he flirted with her, he still saw her as a child. The thought made her stomach twist and her heart hurt. 

“Fine,” she sniffed, forcing a smile on her face. “I guess I’ll go hit up the bars or whatever _girls_ my age are supposed to do on a Friday night.” 

“Belle,” he called after her as she grabbed her things and headed for the door. “Are you angry with me?”

She paused in the doorway, turning to look at him.

“I don’t know,” she said truthfully. “You confuse me. Some days I think we might be friends, that you consider me like an equal. Other times I feel like you think I’m a child playing dress up.”

“What are you talking about?” he asked, a furrow appearing in his brow, his eyes concerned.

“I’m not a girl,” she replied petulantly, and suddenly feeling every bit as young as he doubtless thought her. “I’m a woman.”

His expression cleared, comprehension dawning in his dark eyes.

“Trust me, dear,” he said in that low rumbling voice that set her nerve ending aflame and made heat bloom in her belly. “I’m well aware.” 

She sucked in a breath as he stalked toward her, but once he was within arms reach he stopped. The breath rushed right back out of her and she couldn’t understand why she felt a wave of disappointment. It wasn’t as though anything would ever happen between them.

“I apologize if I’ve muddled our professional relationship, Miss French,” he said coolly, his entire demeanor changing. Belle blanched at the formal use of her name. “It was wrong of me. If I’ve made you uncomfortable, I am deeply sorry.”

Belle’s eyes widened. He thought he made her uncomfortable? It was true, but only in the best way possible. She had dreams of sliding her hands through his longish brown hair. When she brought herself off at night under cover of darkness in her tiny bedroom, it was his accent ringing through her head. She’d told Mal that Gold had no hope of charming her and then immediately fallen under his spell. 

“No,” she replied quickly with a shake of her head.

“I’m in a position of authority over you and it’s wrong of me to overstep those bounds regardless of how absolutely lovely I find you to be.”

Belle was speechless, her heart hammering in her chest. He thought she was lovely?

“I’ll be sure to include Mallory in any of our future conferences. You need not worry…”

She cut him off, reaching forward and grabbing the lapels of his suit jacket and pulling him toward her, the weeks of simmering tension between them breaking through. There was a moment of confusion in his eyes before her lips met his, but then she was kissing him. And, remarkably, he was kissing her back. 

Liam’s arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer to him as her hands slid up to tangle in his hair.

It was so soft, slipping through her fingers like silk. But not enough to distract her from the amazing things his mouth was doing. His tongue slid along the seam of her lips and she opened for him without a thought. He tasted like tea and peppermint and faintly of pipe tobacco though she’d never seen him smoke.

She knew she was being stupid. She was his employee and she’d just kissed her boss. Her position in this firm had never been more tenuous. But at the moment, she couldn’t find it in herself to care.

His hands slid up her back, big and warm through the thin fabric of her blouse. She felt like every bit of her was on fire, like she could combust and burn and be happy to do so.

A cough came from somewhere behind them and they sprung apart as though burned. Belle backed away, smoothing down her skirt and trying to look as though she hadn’t just been snogging her boss. But when she finally found the courage to look up at who had interrupted them, she’d never seen the man before.

“Dove,” Liam said, his voice seemingly higher pitched that usual. “Good. Glad you’re here.”

The man in the doorway didn’t say anything, just observed them serenely with dark eyes. He was tall, towering over the two of them, with a head of thick black hair. Belle was reminded of a giant in a fairy tale.

“This is my driver, Mr. Dove,” Liam continued, motioning at the other man.

“You have a driver?” Belle asked, trying not to laugh at the news.

“Yes,” Gold said without reservation, as though it were commonplace. “Mr. Dove, would you be so kind as to drive Miss French home. I believe we’re done here for the night.”

The tall man just nodded, stepping out of the doorway and motioning for Belle to follow him.

She glanced back over her shoulder at Liam who was busying himself with papers laid out on the conference table. She’d never seen him so flustered.

“Well,” Belle said, shocking herself with the evenness of her own voice. “Aren’t you coming? Don’t you want to escort me home?”

Liam looked up at her, eyes wide, before a smile spread across his face.

“I’d love to.”

* * *

 _October 2014_  

She hadn’t seen him in nearly two weeks, and Lizzie was starting to doubt that he was ever real in the first place.

Liam, her new friend who had breezed into her life promising stories about her dad had slipped right out just as quickly. Ruby always said she had an overactive imagination. Had she made him up? What were the odds of meeting someone from Scotland, who knew her dad, only days after finding out any information on him?

Lizzie felt terrible doubting her own mind. If you couldn’t trust what went on inside your own head, what could you believe?

She’d taken to carrying the moonstone ring around with her in her pocket. She was worried that her mom would find it and even more worried that she’d lose it. But gripping the ring in her hand, feeling the cool metal bite into her skin, was the only way she knew any of it was real.

She wished she had some way to contact him, but Liam had always found her. She’d seen him when she was leaving school and at the park. But she didn’t know how to find him.

The thought had been plaguing her for days when she finally came to a decision. She’d just have to strike out and find Liam herself.

So when the bell rang for recess on Thursday morning, she pulled her friend Jessica aside and asked for help.

“I have to run an errand,” she told her friend who was looking at her with wide eyes. 

“What kind of errand?” Jessica asked. 

“It’s just really important and I can’t tell you what it is,” she whispered back as they walked down the hall in line.

Jessica stopped, crossing her arms against her chest and frowning.

“But I’m your best friend,” she stated, as though the designation gave her full access to all Lizzie’s secrets.

Lizzie sighed, grabbing her friend by the arm and pulling her into the alcove next to the water fountains.

“It’s about my dad,” she whispered.

“I thought your dad was dead,” Jessica said, looking confused.

“He is, but I met this man who knew him and I need to find him again.”

“Why?” Jessica asked.

 Lizzie resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Sometimes Jessica could be dimwitted.

“Because my mom never talks about my dad and I finally found someone who will!”

“Oh,” Jessica returned, still looking unconvinced.

“Look, I’m going to run out and try to find him. I’ll be back by lunchtime. I just need you to cover for me. Tell Miss Blanchard I went to the nurse or something.” 

“Fine,” Jessica huffed, stalking out toward the playground. 

Lizzie bit her lip, trying to decide what to do next. Liam had told her he lived just around the corner from the school. If she went to the corner where she’d first met him and walked through the neighborhood, maybe she’d find him.

She darted out the side door and across the crowded playground, making her way to the fence on the far side. There weren’t very many kids playing over there and she shuffled around the perimeter kicking at stray weeds as she made her way to the ivy covered gate that lead out on to the street. It was padlocked, but if she pulled just enough she could squeeze through the opening.

When she was sure no one was looking, she did just that, slipping through the gap in the fence with ease. For once she was happy for her small stature.

As soon as she was on the other side of the fence, she took off running toward the corner, her heart hammering in her chest. She’d never skipped school before, but then she’d never had something quite this serious to pull her away.

When she made it to the corner, she turned and headed down the street Liam had pointed to when he’d told her where he lived so many weeks ago. There was a long row of uniform red brick buildings running along one side of the street. Apartments, Lizzie thought. She assumed a man like Liam, with his important looking suits, would live in some grand house. But she didn’t see anything that fit the description on this street.

There was a bus stop halfway down the street and Lizzie made her way toward it, settling on the bench to wait for any sign of Liam. She just hoped it didn’t take all day.

In the end, she only had to wait about twenty minutes, as she counted them off on her Mickey Mouse wristwatch, before she spotted him. He came out of one of the apartment buildings, limping along with his cane. There was another man with him, big and tall with a pale bald head that reflected the sunlight like a mirror.

A stomachache she didn’t even realize she had cleared the moment she saw him. It wasn’t all in her head. He was real. 

“Liam!” she cried, hopping up off the bench and waving at him. Her friend’s head snapped up, his eyes zoning in on her. For a moment he looked upset, but then his face cleared and he smiled at her warmly.

He murmured something to the tall man who climbed in the driver’s seat of a black car but didn’t drive away. Then Liam crossed the street toward her.

“Lizzie,” he said, concern etched in his voice. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at school?”

“I came to find you,” she said simply, though now that she was here and had the assurance that he was real, she felt rather silly.

“Oh, sweetheart, why?”

“B-Because you’re my friend,” she said with a shrug of her shoulders, feeling increasingly bad for disturbing him. “And you haven’t come to see me in a while.”

“I’m sorry, dear,” Liam said kindly. “I’ve been rather busy.” 

“Oh,” Lizzie replied, deflating. Of course he was busy. He was a grownup. Grownups never had time for her. Not even her own mom.

“I’m very glad to see you though,” Liam assured her, nudging her shoulder with his finger until she looked up at him.

“I wanted to ask you some more stuff about my dad,” she said hopefully. “I realized I didn’t know when his birthday was.”

Liam smiled at her sadly. Bracing himself on his cane, he knelt down so they were eye to eye.

“I’d like to tell you more about him, sweetheart,” Liam began. “But I’m afraid you’ve caught me at a bad time. In fact, I might not be able to see you for a while.”

Liam glanced over his shoulder at the car where the tall man was still waiting. 

“Why?” she asked, panic rising in her chest. Liam was supposed to be her friend. He said they were friends. He couldn’t just tease her with a wealth of information and then abandon her!

“I have some business to attend to,” he said, looking down at the pavement and not in her eyes. “

“Like a business trip?”

Liam looked uncomfortable, turning his cane in his hand and still not meeting her eyes.

“Not quite,” he said noncommittally. “Look, I’m going to be away for a bit. But while I am, I need you to look after your mother, alright?”

“Why?” she asked, the panic in her chest growing. Liam had never really mentioned her mom before. 

“Because your father loved her very, very much. And he would want the two of you to protect each other.” 

“From what?”

Liam met her eyes finally, and she was shocked to see there were tears in his own. Adults didn’t cry, especially not men. The sight scared her more than anything else she'd seen in her short life.

“I’ll see you again, dear,” he said with a cough, as he stood back up. “Now you need to get back to school.”

With that he crossed the street back toward the black car and slid into the passenger’s seat. The car drove off and Lizzie found herself alone.

Alone and disappointed and afraid, she sat down on the curb and cried.

* * *

Life had seemingly returned to normal, and Belle was glad. She hadn’t heard a peep out of Gary since last Friday night and she was hoping that the man had finally taken the hint. After he’d left her house, she’d thrown out the roses, flipped the wine stained couch cushion to the other side, and pretended he’d never been there.

When Ruby had dropped off Lizzie the next morning, her daughter almost seemed her usual self.

“She was totally fine,” Ruby said, helping herself to coffee in the kitchen after Lizzie had run upstairs.

“So she didn’t mention anything that would have her out of sorts?” Belle asked. “Nothing going on at school, with friends?”

Ruby looked pensive for a moment.

“She did mention a friend named Liam a couple of times,” Ruby said with a commiserating glance. “Do you know anything about him?”

“She mentioned something once before,” Belle said with a nod. “It’s a common enough name these days.”

“Yeah,” Ruby agreed. “Does Lizzie know that’s what you called her dad?”

Belle crossed her arms against her chest, shaking her head.

“No. I’ve never mentioned it. Why?”

Ruby shrugged. “I just got a weird feeling when Lizzie mentioned him. Like he was some shadowy secret thing. When I pressed her about him she wouldn’t answer my questions.”

“So what does that have to do with her father?”

“I thought maybe if she knew more about him she was constructing some sort of fantasy around him. Like some imaginary father figure bearing her real dad’s name.”

Belle quirked her brow. “You think she has an imaginary friend?”

“It’s what it sounded like to me,” Ruby agreed. “I don’t think it’s that uncommon, especially for only children like Lizzie. There’s a child psychiatrist that comes into the diner a lot named Dr. Hopper. I could ask him about it if you want.”

Belle shook her head. “I don’t think my eight year old needs a shrink quite yet. I had an imaginary friend when I was a kid too.”

“Really? And why was that?” 

“I don’t know,” Belle mused. “I guess I was kind of a lonely kid.” 

Ruby leveled her with a pointed look. 

“Shit. I’m a terrible mother!” 

“No!” Ruby cried. “But with work and the break up with Gary, you’ve been kind of stressed. You rarely make it home for dinner these days. It’s not out of the realm of possibility that Lizzie is inventing a parental figure because she’s missing you.”

Belle arched an eyebrow at her friend. “Putting that psychology degree to good use?”

“Well I don’t use it much at the diner,” Ruby replied with a wink.

“This weekend is Halloween,” Belle pointed out. “I should take her trick or treating.” 

Ruby’s eyes bulged at that. “ _You’re_ going to celebrate Halloween?”

“It’s time,” Belle said with a grimace. “It’s just a day.”

Ruby had grabbed her hand with an encouraging smile. But now, as Belle sat in her office late Thursday morning, she was wondering at the decision. She’d bought Lizzie a costume, one of those off the rack Disney princess dresses, and her daughter had seemed excited about the prospect. She couldn’t back out on her now.

“Well, well if it isn’t little Belle French with a corner office.”

“Regina?” Belle jumped, startled at the intrusion. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m in Boston for a conference,” the dark haired woman said, moving regally into the room. “I’m grabbing lunch with Mallory. You should join us.”

“I’m afraid I’ll have to take a rain check,” Belle replied, motioning at the pile of file folders on her desk. “How are things in New York? How is the Mills Group?”

“Fine,” Regina said with a shrug, walking around the office and trailing her fingers along one of Belle’s bookshelves. “Mother keeps us all on our toes.”

Belle could well believe that. Cora Mills was a former Miss America contestant who’d married one of the richest men in New York before attending law school. She was beautiful, smart and completely vicious. Her daughter was a chip off the old block.

“Is this your daughter?” Regina asked suddenly, motioning toward a framed photograph of Lizzie.

“Yeah,” Belle couldn’t keep the smile from her face when talking about her daughter. “My Elizabeth. That’s her school picture from last year.” 

A genuine smile spread across Regina’s face, softening her features and making her truly beautiful.

“I adopted just last year,” she said, her eyes shining as she pulled her phone out of her purse. “His name is Henry.”

Belle looked down at the photo on the phone of a pink-cheeked toddler.

“He’s beautiful.”

“Thank you,” Regina said with a nod. “So is Elizabeth.”

Belle could scarcely believe she was having a heart to heart with Regina Mills in her office. They’d never been close in their days as interns. Regina was far too competitive to waste time making friends. On top of that, she hadn’t seen the woman in years. She supposed motherhood was finally something they had in common.

“She looks so much like her father,” Regina said suddenly. Belle’s heart thudded to a stop in her chest.

“What?”

“She looks just like Gold,” Regina continued, not seeming to notice Belle’s shock. 

Regina continued perusing the bookshelf, picking up a treatise on tax credits and flipping through it idly while Belle stared at her in disbelief.

“Oh don’t look at me like that, Belle,” she sighed, finally glancing up. “Did you honestly think I didn’t know about your little dalliance with our boss?”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I was going to,” she shrugged. “I figured it would be a surefire way to ensure you didn’t get offered a job here. Sleeping your way to the top is such an ugly accusation. But if there’s one thing my mother taught me it’s that gathering information is important, but how you used that information is the real prize. I was holding on to it for a rainy day that unfortunately never came.”

Belle couldn’t help it, her mouth fell open at Regina’s admission.

“You were going to use our relationship against Gold,” she stated. Why would Regina waste something like that on a friendly rivalry when she had bigger fish to fry?

“Naturally,” Regina returned with a sharp smile.

“Well why didn’t you? You had ample opportunity.”

It was like something pricked Regina and she deflated, all the smugness leaking out of her. 

“You want the honest truth?” 

“Yes,” Belle cried.

“It was the way he looked at you. When I first became suspicious of you two, I thought you were fucking your way to the top. I thought Gold was some cradle robbing two-timing son of a bitch and you were a calculating little slut. But then I saw the way you looked at each other and I realized that wasn’t the case. He really loved you.”

“Why would that matter to you?”

“Because I had a secret romance of my own once," she said sadly. "My mother didn’t think he was suitable for me and put a stop to it. Not one day passes that I don’t regret not fighting for him. When the time came, I couldn’t do that to someone else, rip two people apart who obviously belonged together. I’m sorry for what happened to him.”

“Thank you,” Belle said, honestly touched at the other woman’s words. But at the same time, an icy feeling crept up her spine. Regina knew who Lizzie’s father was. What if she wasn’t the only one?

Her office phone ringing loudly interrupted her thoughts. Glancing down, she recognized the phone number for Elizabeth’s school. 

“I’ll let you get that,” Regina said with a sad smile, before slipping out of the office as quietly as she'd arrived.

“This is Belle French,” she said, picking up the phone only to hear a frantic Mary Margaret Blanchard on the other end.

She felt like the breath had been stolen from her lungs. Lizzie was missing.

* * *

Graham slammed his phone down on his desk with a grimace. Gold apparently had a job for him and he’d be needed at the docks tonight. He shuddered to think what the man possibly wanted from him now.

He wished he could be out from under Gold’s thumb. He wished he had any power at all in the situation. But Gold held the reigns tightly on him as he always had. The money Gold had provided over the years had been necessary. And now, he had Belle and Lizzie to protect from the man.

As if conjured by the thought, Belle appeared in the lobby, running up to his desk frantically. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked. She looked terrified, her eyes wide and her face pale.

“Lizzie is missing from school. They can’t find her.”

Graham hopped up immediately, rounding the desk and pulling out his cell phone.

“Let’s go,” he said, wrapping an arm around Belle’s shoulder and leading her out toward the parking garage. “We’ll find her.”

On route to the school, Graham put in a call with his friend Detective Emma Swan. If they could get a couple squad cars to canvas the area they’d have a better chance of finding Lizzie. He wouldn’t give in to the thoughts nagging at the back of his mind. That Gold had done something immeasurably stupid like kidnapping his daughter. The man was clearly insane, but he wasn’t that dumb, was he?

When they arrived at the school, Emma was already there, speaking to Lizzie’s teacher. She’d last seen her before the class went to recess but that was over two hours ago.  The teacher, Miss Blanchard, was in tears and Emma patted her shoulder consolingly.

Beside him, Graham could feel Belle shaking with fear and rage. He knew she’d have a few choice words for the poor woman once they’d found Elizabeth.

“Miss French,” came a small voice from behind them. They wheeled around to be faced with a small, freckle faced little girl. 

“Jessica,” Belle replied, stooping down to the child’s eye level. “Do you know where Lizzie is?”

“She made me promise not to say anything,” Jessica said, her eyes welling up with tears. “But I don’t want her to get in trouble.”

“She’s not going to be in trouble, sweetheart,” Belle assured her. “Just tell me where she went.”

Jessica bit her trembling lower lip. “She said she had to go run an errand. That there was a man who knew things about her daddy.”

Graham felt the blood in his veins turn to ice. Had someone figured it out? Had someone gotten to Elizabeth?

“What did she say about the man?” Graham insisted, and the little girl looked up at him fearfully.

“Nothing,” she said with a shake of her red head. “Just that she needed to find him.”

Graham didn’t wait to hear more, tearing off down the steps of the school and out onto the street hearing Belle calling after him. He rounded the corner and down two more blocks when his efforts were rewarded. 

There was a tiny little shape, huddled next to a brick gate halfway down the street. Relief flooded his system as he walked up to Lizzie.

“You’re in a lot of trouble, young lady,” he said breathlessly.

Lizzie looked up at him and then burst into tears.

“He left me,” she cried, jumping up and hugging Graham tightly around the middle. “He’s gone and he left me.”

Graham picked up the crying little girl and she buried her head against his shoulder, sobbing incoherently.

“Who?” he asked, stroking her back.

“Liam left me,” she continued, the sobs shaking the girl's small body, forcing hiccuping sounds as she struggled to catch her breath.

Belle rounded the corner a moment later, crying out when she saw her daughter. Graham passed Lizzie off to her mother, who clutched at her daughter fiercely, both of them crying.

Graham felt anger swell in his gut. That stupid bastard just couldn’t stay away.

* * *

Gold was still shaken from his run in with Lizzie that morning. He hadn’t expected to see her. He’d underestimated his importance in his daughter’s life, though now that he considered it, she saw him as the only tenuous connection she had to a father she’d never known. Belle truly must have never mentioned him at all. That thought sent a little barb through his heart. He knew there was no chance that Belle still loved him, a dead man. But that she’d never even shared the least bit of information about him with his own child cut him to the quick. How little she must have cared for him in the grand scheme of things.

It had been premature, inserting himself into his daughter’s life. He thought he could balance it, a relationship with Lizzie and the nature of his business. But the reality had proven more difficult. There was blood on his hands, hands that were not worthy of touching his child. He could not be both. He could not love one child and betray the other. His heart felt like it had been ripped in two, and each little face sporting the same pair of brown eyes held one half. 

But he’d made a promise, long ago. He had to see it through. If that meant delaying any relationship with Lizzie while he settled past scores, so be it. Regardless, this was no place to be thinking about any of his lost loves.

Booth’s tip had proved correct and Gold had an easy enough time tracking down Keith Knotts. He’d been lingering in the shadows behind the Rabbit Hole for the past half hour, pressing his silk handkerchief to his nose to mask the awful smell of piss and stale beer.

Around midnight, a hulking, dark haired figure in a leather jacket stumbled into the alleyway, dragging a waifish girl along in his wake. Gold stood up straighter, his spot in the shadows going undetected. 

“Where’s the money, Zelda?” he asked the girl, shoving her with far too much force until her back hit the crumbling brick façade of the bar.

The girl just looked up at him blearily, barely even reacting to his show of force.

“Are you using my money to score a hit you little bitch?” the man asked, shoving her shoulders hard against the wall and pinning her there.

“My money,” she mumbled, looking down and away from the man in front of her.

The man let out a harsh, mirthless laugh at that.

“You don’t have any money, baby,” he said pressing in close to the girl who was now shaking visibly. “I own you. So how am I gonna make my money back?”

The girl shook her head listlessly.

“Oh I think you know.” The man stepped back, still holding her against the wall with one hand while he pulled at his trousers with the other. The girl just shut her eyes, resigned to her fate.

Gold had seen plenty.

The man had shoved his pants down by the time Gold had reached them, far too concerned with what was going on in his boxers to notice the man behind him. 

Gold lifted his cane, bringing it down hard against the man’s shoulder who stumbled to the side out of surprise.

“What the…” he began whirling around, but Gold was already swinging again, bringing the handle of his cane up in a graceful arc until it collided with the man’s jaw. He fell back, hard, against a pile of trash bags outside the bar door.

Breathing heavily, Gold whipped around to where the girl, Zelda, was still standing.

“Run,” he snarled.

The girl looked at him with wide eyes before turning and dashing off into the night.

Gold turned back to the man sitting on the trash bags, trousers around his ankles and slightly disoriented. A quick search of the man’s person revealed a handgun and a small knife, both of which Gold pocketed, before training his own gun on his prey.

“Mr. Knotts, I presume,” he said pleasantly.

“Who the fuck are you?” Keith spat out, blood trickling from a split lip.

“That’s not important at the moment,” he returned. “What is important is that you and I are going to have a little chat.”

Still holding his gun on the man, Gold pulled out his cell phone with his other hand and sent a quick text message. Moments later, his Cadillac was pulling up behind the bar. 

“Ah, Mr. Dove,” Gold said benignly as the large man got out of the driver’s seat. “Would you be so kind as to escort my friend here into the car?”

“Where are you taking me?” Keith spat as Dove hoisted him to his feet and manhandled him into the trunk of the car.

“Oh, a lovely little place near the water,” Gold said with a smile. “You and I are about to have some fun.” 

Then he shoved the trunk door shut, muffling the man’s screams. 


	9. Surprises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Surprizes are foolish things. The pleasure is not enhanced, and the inconvenience is often considerable." - Jane Austen, "Emma"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for some light torture. Nothing too bad or bloody though. More just threats.

_Ten Years Ago…_

It had been five days. Five days since she’d kissed her boss.

Belle was moderately surprised to still have a job, all things considered. The kiss had been amazing. Brilliant even. She didn’t think she’d ever been kissed so thoroughly in all her twenty-two years. Then Mr. Dove had driven her home with Liam in the backseat with her. He’d rolled up the partition and kissed her again.

It was lucky she lived so close to the office or things may have gone a bit further than she was prepared for.

But that had happened five days ago, and Liam hadn't said a word to her since. She was completely at a loss as to where they stood now. Was it a one-time thing? A fling? The start of something more? She’d prefer the latter, but how did you go about telling your boss, who happened to also be seventeen years older than you, that you’d quite frankly like to go out for dinner then back to his place to ride him to your mutual satisfaction?

They didn’t make greeting cards with that message.

She’d kissed him on a Friday. Now it was Wednesday, and Belle was starting to doubt herself. Had it meant anything? Did she really want it to?

“Miss French,” the words pulled her out of her stupor as her head swiveled to the side only to be faced with the object of her recent thoughts. “I need to see you in my office.”

David looked up at her briefly before averting his eyes back to the document he was working on. Regina was, blessedly, at lunch.

Belle stood up, her feet dragging as she followed Liam up to his office. This was it. He was about to fire her. Just because he’d kissed her back didn’t mean anything. Obviously he’d thought better of having a distraction in the office. She had overstepped her bounds. Why did she have to be so impulsive?

It didn’t help that Liam was completely quiet as they made their way up to his floor. She suddenly realized how strange it was that he’d come to collect her himself. He could have just called or sent his secretary to summon her. But here she was, trapped in the elevator with this man yet again, quite possibly for the last time.

The thought made her stomach hurt. If this was the end, and she never saw him again, what would she do? She supposed she had an answer to her question of how she really felt about him. The thought of being without him hurt more than the fact that being fired from her first internship was surely a black spot that would follow her the rest of her career. 

They disembarked from the elevator, right in front of the conference room near Liam’s office. It was the sight of their first kiss and merely seeing the slightly ajar door to the room had a blush creeping over Belle’s cheeks. Liam glanced down at her, a smirk playing across his lips and Belle’s blush only deepened. If he was going to fire her, he could at least have the decency not to mock her first.

With a pointed look at the conference room door, Gold continued down the hall, but Belle stopped at the sound of raised voices from the room.

“Mother!” Regina was crying desperately. “You cannot let this happen!”

“Now, Regina, dear,” returned a voice with false sincerity. “This is not the place to discuss such things. Chin up, darling.”

“I can’t believe you would do this,” Regina replied angrily. “Not to me.” 

“Then I suggest you make the most of your time here, darling,” came the cold reply. “Otherwise things will turn out exactly as you fear.” 

The door to the conference room opened wider and Belle was faced with Cora Mills in the flesh. The woman was picture perfect, her reddish brown hair swept to one side, her blood red lips pulled back in a semblance of a smile, not a speck of lint on her tailored black jacket. Behind her, Regina’s eyes were bloodshot, her face distressed, though she seemed to be doing her best to compose herself.

“Can I help you?” Cora asked, her brown eyes boring into Belle’s.

“No,” Belle replied with a shake of her head. “I was just…” But Cora wasn’t listening to her. Her attention had been arrested by the other person in the hall.

“William,” she exclaimed, her eyes lighting up in a way that was almost terrifying. She sauntered up to him, reaching up to kiss him firmly on the mouth. Belle felt her heart plummet to her feet.

Regina averted her eyes, staring down at the carpet as though it had personally offended her. For his part, Liam looked as stunned as Belle felt. Mal had mentioned a past relationship between Gold and Cora, but she’d thought it was over. Was there still something between him and Regina’s mother? Is that why he’d been cold to her since their kiss? The air seemed to go out of the room as Belle considered that she could be the other woman in this situation.

“Cora,” Gold replied, the stunned expression slipping from his face and replaced with his usual cool demeanor. “Always a pleasure. What brings you to town?”

“Visiting my lovely daughter,” Cora returned, gesturing at Regina without sparing her a glance. “I had to come see what it was about Midas & Gold that stole her away from The Mills Group.”

“Well, perhaps it was the management,” Gold said with a razor thin smile. Cora let out a tinkling little laugh, placing a delicate hand against her chest.

“There’s that wit I’ve missed so much. We should have dinner while I’m in town. We can reminisce about the old days.”

“I’ll check my schedule,” Gold returned. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have something to discuss with Miss French.”

Cora’s head turned in Belle’s direction, her eyes raking over her as though sizing her up. Belle suddenly felt very aware of her Banana Republic skirt suit in the face of Cora’s designer threads. The Hermes belt she was wearing alone could have paid Belle’s rent for several months.

“Oh William,” Cora sniffed with a cruel smile, her eyes lingering on Belle in an uncomfortable way. “You really haven’t changed one bit.”

“Ladies,” Liam said with a curt nod, turning to stride down the hall and leaving Belle to ponder just what Cora’s words implied. 

“It was nice to meet you,” she said to Cora before turning to follow Liam down the hall.

Once they were alone in his office, the door closed firmly behind them, Liam spun back to face her.

“I despise that vile woman,” he said with a sigh, rubbing his hand across his mouth as though he could rid himself of Cora’s lingering presence there.

“You seemed quite close to me,” Belle said uncharitably, hating how petulant the words sounded.

Gold looked up at her, understanding dawning across his face.

“Mal told you, didn’t she?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Belle said with a shrug.

“Bullshit,” he returned.

“It’s none of my business,” she said truthfully. She honestly didn’t want to hear about his sordid past with a well dressed, highly successful, beautiful woman that Belle knew she could never hope to compare to. And why should she? She didn’t want to be in competition with this woman. If that was Liam’s type, she certainly didn’t stand a chance. It was for the best that this thing was ending before it could begin.

“I think it is,” he said softly, his brown eyes looking at her intently. Belle’s breath caught in her chest at the heat of his gaze.

“It was a momentary lapse in judgment,” he continued. “She caught me just after my divorce and I was not in a good place to put things mildly.”

Belle just nodded. “As I said, it’s none of my business.”

Liam glanced down at his desk, trailing a finger over the polished mahogany.

“All the same, I thought you should know.”

“Is that why you called me up here?” she asked, crossing her arms against her chest. “To tell me about your past flings?”

“Of course not,” he replied, his brow quirking in that way that made her want to soothe the frown line that had formed between his eyebrows. But she couldn’t think those things any longer. He’d never been hers and he never would be. “Belle, whatever happened between Cora and myself is far in the past. I feel nothing but disdain for that woman.”

“Is that how you feel about all your dalliances?” she shot back. “Is that how you feel about…” she couldn’t continue her sentence. She couldn’t come right out and ask what their kiss meant. She knew she should be more courageous, but here in his office, his domain, she felt small, like she was nothing more than a child.

“Of course not,” he repeated, stepping toward her until he was closer than he’d been since their kiss. Closer than they’d been since they were wrapped around each other in the back of his car, his hands skimming over her body and setting her aflame. “I called you up here to apologize.”

His words were like a bucket of cold water, shocking Belle’s system.

"Why should you apologize?" she asked. 

"Well, because of what happened," he said, looking increasingly uncomfortable, his words coming out haltingly. "Because of...us."

"There is no us," Belle said with a shrug. "You kissed me and now you won't talk to me. So, is that it? Was it just a stupid impulse decision and we're doomed to be awkward around each other for the rest of the summer?"

Belle didn't think it was possible for Liam to look more miserable. His eyes were wide and almost hurt. It was the most open she'd ever seen him. For one wild moment, she thought she might actually hold the power here. He was looking to her for guidance. 

"I'm not good at this, Belle," he said finally, gesturing between them. "In fact, I'm rather spectacularly bad at it."

"So you thought avoiding me was the best course of action?"

"I thought you'd regret it." 

“Oh,” Belle said in a small voice, her arms tightening around herself. “Do you regret it?”

“No,” he said simply. “I know I should. I know it’s wrong of me to get involved with an employee. But I can’t find it in myself to care. Because I am quite taken with you, Miss French, and I need you to end this because I’m not strong enough to.”

“I don’t want to end it,” she replied. “I don’t know what it is exactly, but I want to see.”

A smile spread across Liam’s face making him look almost boyish before he pulled Belle into his arms, his lips slanting over hers, plucking at them until her knees felt like water. She could get used to kissing William Gold. She never wanted to stop.

After a moment he pulled away, resting his forehead against hers.

“Have dinner with me, Beautiful?” he asked breathlessly.

“Yes,” she smiled.  

* * *

_October 2014_

Staring down at the sniveling man tied to the chair, Gold felt nothing but contempt. He was sobbing, his nose running and mixing with the blood on his face until he was nothing but a slimy, bloodied, mucus covered wreck.

The warehouse was empty and the small room Dove had found in the back was perfect for their purposes this evening. It almost frightened him how adept he’d become at this sort of thing. But it was temporary. Once he found out what he needed to know, once he’d claimed his vengeance and ensured that his family was safe, he could forget this dark time. He could go back to the man he’d once been.

If he repeated it enough, Gold could almost believe that was true.

“Look, I don’t know anything, I swear,” Keith Knotts cried out. “I don’t talk to Zorza directly. I’m nothing, man. I’m the low guy on the totem pole.” 

Booth had been correct in his assessment of Keith. The man had caved under the mere threat of what Gold could do to him. A few whacks to the face and one broken finger was all it had taken to get the man talking. Gold was glad. He did what needed to be done, but he didn’t enjoy torture.

“I don’t doubt that,” Gold said evenly. “We’ve barely started and you’re already broken. Zorza is far too smart to entrust you with any secrets.”

The man’s eyes widened at his words.

“Then…then why are you doing this?”

“Because despite being no more use to Mr. Zorza than a piece of gum stuck to the bottom of his shoe, you are still privy to the goings on of his network.”

“No,” Keith cried, shaking his head and pulling at the ropes that bound his wrists to the arms of the chair. “I promise. I don’t know anything.”

“You see,” Gold said, raising the cane once more and bringing it down hard on one of Keith’s restrained hands with a sickening crack. “That’s not the answer I like to hear.”

Keith howled in pain, struggling to find purchase against the concrete floor while his feet were lashed together.

“What do you want to know?” he cried.

“Zorza’s men have been dropping like flies these past few years. I need to know who his right hand man is these days.”

Keith looked up at him defiantly for a moment until Gold lifted the cane again.

“It’s Jones!” he cried. “Killian Jones! That’s who I answer to, alright?”

The words sent bile burning up the back of Gold’s throat. He knew Killian Jones well enough. He’d known him for a long time.

“Mr. Jones seems to have climbed his way to the top,” Gold said quietly. “What information can you give me on him?” 

“I don’t know,” Keith continued frantically.

“You’re gonna need to give a better answer than that if you don’t want more pain,” Gold growled, raising his cane threateningly.

“Alright!” Keith exclaimed, the threat of torture working just as well as actual pain on the man. “Jones has lost it. He’s been obsessed lately with some long dead bloke. Been digging for information on him ever since his wife died a few years back in Majorca. Zorza tried to shut it down, but Jones doesn’t listen. He’s got people out looking for him.”

Gold clenched his teeth. So that was the truth of it then? Everything was starting to come in to focus, and Gold was frightened by the clarity. It was all so simple, in the end.

“And why is that?” he asked. 

“He thinks the dead guy has something to do with his wife’s death. I don’t know why. We’ve all said he’s crazy, but he won’t let it go.”

“And what has his investigation turned up?”

“He said he had a lead,” Keith said, shaking his lank black hair out of his eyes. “Some girl and her kid that he was looking in to.”

Gold felt as though ice had trickled down his spine and settled heavy and leaden in the pit of his stomach. He gripped his cane tightly to keep himself upright. If Jones knew about Belle…

He stepped back from Keith, nodding to Dove in the corner.

“Thank you for all your help Mr. Knotts,” he said as Dove walked up behind Keith and cut the ropes binding him to the chair. “My associate is going to drive you to the bus station. He’s going to give you a bus ticket to anywhere you want to go and a large amount of cash. In return, you’re going to leave this city and never come back. You’re never going to mention a word of this to anyone. If you do, I’ll shoot you in the head. Do we have a deal?” 

Keith nodded frantically, his mouth clamped shut.

“Good.”

He pulled out his pocket square, wiping the blood from the handle of his cane before proceeding to a large sink against one wall and rinsing the blood from his hands. Dove would have the place cleaned up after dropping Keith at the bus station. No one would know he’d ever been there. The assurances did nothing for him.

He glanced up into the mirror above the sink barely recognizing the man who looked back at him. He was old, he was tired, he brought nothing but death and destruction down on those he loved. Belle and Lizzie didn’t deserve this. They’d be better off if he left and never looked back. But his actions had them embroiled in this now. He had to protect them at all costs.

With trembling hands he pulled his cell phone from his jacket pocket, punching in the familiar number. 

“It’s time, Humbert,” he growled in to the receiver. “Unfortunately my timeline has been moved up. I need to speak to Belle. Now.” 

* * *

In the end, his salvation came in the form of a box stuffed unceremoniously in the back of a closet. Like most things in his life, Gary had stumbled upon it quite fortuitously. 

After waiting outside the house that morning as Belle loaded Elizabeth into the car and headed off to a job in an office that should have been his, he let himself in the back door with the spare key.

He figured he had time enough. From their months together, he knew Belle’s schedule. Ruby, the babysitter, would show up around 3:30 with the brat in tow. Getting his start at 8 in the morning gave him uninterrupted hours to do this thoroughly.

But it didn’t take Gary hours.

He started in Belle’s bedroom. Wearing a pair of gloves to keep from disrupting anything, he carefully went through the drawers of her dresser. After finding nothing more incriminating there than a bodice ripper of a romance novel and a discreet looking vibrator, he continued on to the closet.

It was there, at the back, in a beat up cardboard box held together with packing tape, that Gary learned the truth.

He pulled the box from the back of the closet, making sure not to displace the mountain of high heeled shoes scattered along the closet floor.

He recognized the name, of course, though the man had died a few years prior to his starting at the firm. It was a name that sat proudly on the letterhead of the office, staring him in the face while Belle played coy a few floors below. The answer had been right in front of him the whole time.

“You little slut,” he chuckled to himself as he rifled through the contents of the box. There were letters, one tucked away in a Valentine’s Day card, one written on the back of a cocktail napkin from a hotel downtown. There were a few pieces of expensive looking jewelry that were a bit of a temptation. He could certainly use the money. But if the man from the bar came through on his promises, Gary would be just fine.

He set a diamond necklace back into its box, moving on to a stack of photographs. There weren’t that many, just a small pile documenting Belle’s time with Lizzie’s apparent father. There was a photo of them on a boat both looking sun kissed and happy. There was one of the man’s profile as he leaned on a balcony overlooking the water.

Finally, Gary settled on one photo to stuff into his jacket pocket. It was a shirtless William Gold wrapped up in crisp white bed sheets. Beside him a young Belle had her face buried against his neck. It looked as though Gold had taken the photograph, his thumb obscuring the bottom left corner of the picture. He was smirking at the camera. Belle was blushing and looked to be mid-laugh. They looked disgustingly happy.

“Gotcha,” he muttered to himself, replacing the box in the back of the closet and shutting the door. He wasn’t sure what the man from the bar wanted with a dead man, but if it was going to get him paid he’d gladly deliver. 

* * *

Halloween had long been one of Belle’s least favorite days of the year. It hadn’t been a big deal, back home in Australia when she’d been growing up. It had been a bit of a culture shock when she came to the U.S. for college and experienced firsthand the outlandish holiday. She’d been dragged out to bars and parties with her friends in increasingly tiny outfits they claimed were “costumes”.  She’d never found much joy in having her ass groped by drunken frat boys dressed like linebackers and priests.

And then, nine years ago, it had become the worst day of her life.

Since then, she’d consciously avoided the holiday. Lizzie had started going trick-or-treating a few years back with Ruby while Belle stayed home. But she’d finally decided that this year would be different.

Her daughter had been suffering, and Belle couldn’t help but feel that it was all her fault. She’d tried to be the very best mother she could be, but she knew she was failing Elizabeth and it hurt her heart.

After the scare the day before when she’d run away from school, Lizzie had finally come clean with her mother. Over ice cream she’d told her about her “friend”, a nice old man with a limp and a cane who called himself Liam. It was only Ruby’s assurances that the mysterious man seemed to be imaginary that kept Belle from panicking.

“Baby, has anyone else ever met Liam?” she asked.

“No,” Lizzie said with a shake of her head.

She let out a sigh of relief at that, wondering how terrible of a mother it made her that she was glad her child was running away from school to track down an imaginary friend. But it was better than the alternative, that some strange man had taken a frightening interest in her child.

“Do you know what an imaginary friend is?” she asked, looking for confirmation.

“Yeah,” Lizzie said, leveling her with a look so reminiscent of her father. “But he’s not imaginary. He’s real.”

Belle bit her lip, wondering how to continue the conversation. Maybe she should let Lizzie see Dr. Hopper after all.

“He’s gone now though,” Lizzie continued, her little chin wobbling slightly at the admission. “He told me to protect you and that I wouldn’t see him again.”

“I think that’s for best,” Belle said, covering her daughter’s sticky ice cream covered hand with her own.

Now it was Halloween night and Lizzie seemed back to her old self. She was darting around the living room in her Snow White costume, her little plastic shoes clacking along the hardwood floor. She hadn’t even had any candy yet and she was already in a state.

Belle was adjusting her hair in the downstairs bathroom. It wasn’t in her to dress up in costume herself, but she’d used eyeliner to draw little spider webs at the corners of her eyes and was affixing a tiny witch hat to her hair to at least attempt to be in the spirit of the holiday.

“Mommy!” came Lizzie’s voice from the living room. “There’s someone here!”

Assuming it was trick-or-treaters getting an early start, Belle headed out to the foyer, picking up a bowl of candy that seemed to be much lighter than when she’d prepared it earlier that night. Maybe Lizzie’s sudden burst of energy was attributable to sugar after all.

“No more candy until we leave,” she admonished her daughter over her shoulder as she headed for the door. By the end of the night, the poor kid would be in a self-induced sugar coma.

Instead of the expected children in costumes, the door opened to Graham, looking haggard and unwell.

“Belle, I need to talk to you, in private,” he said before she could even get out a word of welcome.

“Uncle Graham!” Lizzie cried, running in from the other room and bounding into Graham’s arms.

“Hey, Dizzy Lizzie,” he said affectionately, hugging the little girl. “You’re a very pretty princess this evening.”

“Did you bring me any candy?” she asked, stepping back and looking at him critically. “It’s Halloween.”

“As a matter of fact,” Graham reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out an Apollo bar. “If your mother says it’s okay.”

Lizzie turned her big brown eyes on her mother beseechingly.

“Mum says it’s okay,” Belle conceded. “But go eat it in the kitchen.”

Lizzie grabbed the candy bar out of Graham’s hand and bolted to the kitchen without another word.

“What’s wrong?” Belle asked, leading Graham out of the entry hall and into the living room.

“I, uh, haven’t been completely honest with you,” her friend said, rubbing his hands together agitatedly.

“What are you talking about?”

“I’ve been keeping secrets,” Graham continued, starting to pace around the living room. “There are things at work here that are bigger than you or me and I – I wasn’t strong enough.”

Belle was starting to get worried. She’d never seen Graham in such a state. He looked pale, there were dark circles under his eyes, and he wasn’t making any sense.

“I tried to stop him, but he wouldn’t listen,” he continued. “I shouldn’t have let this happen.”

“Let what happen?” she asked, walking toward him and grabbing his hands to keep him from pacing.

“I want you to know, that everything I did and everything I said was always to protect you and Elizabeth,” he said, ignoring her question and gripping her hands tightly. “I only ever had your best interests at heart.”

“Graham I know you would never do anything to hurt us,” she assured him. “Whatever it is, just tell me.”

“It’s Gold,” he rasped out.

Belle felt like icy tendrils had seized around her heart at his words. This was too much, coming on the heels of Lizzie’s “friend”.

“What about him?” she asked, almost afraid of the answer. She knew her lover had kept secrets from her. She knew he could be a dangerous man. But if there was something from his past that could harm her daughter, she needed to know.

“He’s alive,” Graham said unsteadily, tears welling in his eyes.

Belle reeled back as thought she’d just been dealt a blow. Part of her was relieved that all of this panic had been for nothing. Part of her was suddenly terrified for Graham. And part of her was downright furious.

“Are you sick?” she managed to gasp out. “He’s dead. Today is actually the ninth anniversary of his death, but you know that. Why would you come here today of all days and say that?”

“I’m so sorry,” he said with a shake of his head. “I didn’t want you to find out this way. You shouldn’t have found out at all.”

A sudden banging on the front door made Graham jump, but Belle kept her eyes locked with his. Graham was one of her best friends, he’d been there for her when Liam had died, he’d taken her to the hospital when she’d gone in to labor, he was the first person other than her to hold Lizzie. He was family. To have him spouting nonsense about her dead boyfriend on the anniversary of his death was a cruelty she could never imagine from him. He must be ill.

“I’ll get it!” came Lizzie’s cheerful voice from the kitchen, completely unaware of what was happening one room over from her.

“It’s him,” Graham whispered. “I’m too late.”

“Who?” Belle asked, as her friend sank down onto the sofa, cradling his head in his hands.

“Mommy!” Lizzie called from the entry hall. “It’s my friend Liam. I told you he wasn’t imaginary!”

Belle looked up, confused. A moment later, Lizzie entered the living room followed by a man. His hair was longer and greyer than she remembered, his face more lined, but there was no mistaking who he was, not for one moment.

She felt the field of her vision narrow to two tiny pinpricks, centered on that most familiar face.

“Liam,” she gasped.

“Hello, Beautiful,” came a voice she’d never thought to hear again.

And then her legs gave out.


	10. Worse Than Strangers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Now they were as strangers; nay worse than strangers, for they could never become acquainted.” - Jane Austen "Persuasion"

_Ten Years Ago…_

“After due consideration we’ve decided to offer you a chance to extend your internship into the school year,” Mal said with a wide smile. To her side, Liam was smirking at Belle, his eyes sparkling. On her other side, Mr. Midas was checking his e-mail on his phone.

“Wow,” Belle managed to stutter out. She’d had an inkling, of course. Despite her shaky start, she knew she’d managed to scrape through the summer and impress the right people. More than impress in one case.

“Thank you so much for this opportunity,” she continued. “I would love to continue working for Midas and Gold.”

“Excellent,” Mal drawled. “You’ve been a real asset to this firm, Belle. I look forward to seeing your growth throughout the year.”

With that, the meeting was over. Belle was told she’d need to fill out additional paperwork with Abigail about using the internship as course credit during her third year. But that could wait. Right now, she had a bone to pick with Liam.

She followed him down the hall to his office, arms crossed against her chest.

“You didn’t warn me at all, you bastard,” Belle accused as soon as the door shut behind her. “You could have prepared me.”

“I didn’t want to ruin the surprise,” Liam said with a shrug. “Congratulations, Beautiful.”

Belle dropped the act, sighing happily as she leaned back against the office door. “I can’t believe it. My first week here I was sure I was going to be packed up and sent home at any moment. And you definitely didn’t help, elevator man.”

Liam arched an eyebrow at her. "Is that my nickname?"

"It's the only name I had for you for over a week," she accused. 

“I was just flirting with you in my own awkward way,” he returned with a small smile. Belle knew the truth of that now. Her boyfriend, if she could really call him that, was anything but smooth. It was that revelation that had endeared him to her. For their first date, he’d invited her over to his place and made dinner. He’d been almost shy and adorably awkward. Despite spending weeks in each other’s company at work, a date was uncharted territory. He’d been so nervous he knocked a glass of wine in her lap. It was in that moment Belle knew that despite the power imbalance inherent in their relationship, she was the one running the show.

At least, she thought she was.

“Wait, this isn’t because…” she trailed off, looking at him pointedly.

“You’re sleeping with me?” Liam finished with a smirk.

Belle rolled her eyes. “I’m not though.”

They’d been seeing each other for a few weeks, and despite the intense attraction between them, Belle had managed to hold out on completely becoming a stereotype by fucking her boss. If he kept smiling at her like that it wouldn’t be for much longer though.

“I promise, I had nothing to do with the decision,” Liam said more seriously. “Mallory spoke very highly of you in the partners meeting and Midas agreed. O’Keefe put in a good word for you as well. I might as well not even have been there.”

“Really?” she asked.

“You are a smashing success, Belle French. Not to mention you’re already up to speed on the Glass case. It just makes sense to keep you on.”

“And this has nothing to do with keeping me close at hand for all those long hours?” she asked, crossing the office to trail her hand down Liam’s tie. “All those late nights at the office?”

“Well I can’t say I’m disappointed,” he returned, wrapping his arms around her waist. “But this isn’t really the time or the place to start celebrating.”

He was right of course. Belle had been offered a job with Midas & Gold for the entirety of the next school year. It was more imperative than ever that whatever was happening between them remained a secret. She liked Liam. If she was completely honest with herself, she could admit that she _really_ liked Liam. But if word of their relationship got out, it could ruin her credibility. She wanted to be a top attorney, to work in a great firm after law school. A relationship with a partner during her internship was sure to look bad.

She straightened Liam’s tie before stepping back from the circle of his arms.

“I’ll see you tonight?” she asked.

“Come by my office around seven,” he returned, stepping around behind his desk. “I’ll give you a ride home.”

By 7:00 that evening, the office was all but empty. It was a Friday in August, the weather had been perfect all week and the other attorneys had cleared out early, eager to get a start on their weekends. So Belle made her way up to Liam's office without fear of being detected.

"Ready?" she asked, peeking her head into the doorway. Liam was sitting behind his desk, staring intently at his computer screen. He jumped slightly at her intrusion. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt," she said, walking further into the room.

"It's fine," Liam said quickly, slapping his laptop shut as she came around to the side of his desk. Belle narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

"What were you doing?"

"Nothing," he replied coolly. Belle remained unconvinced.

"You're being secretive," she pointed out.

"Yes," he agreed.

"Why?"

"I'm a devious, secretive man, dearie," Liam said with a flourish, pulling her down onto his lap. Belle squealed, bracing herself against his shoulders. He wrapped his arms around her waist before leaning in for a kiss, but Belle stopped him with a hand to his chest.

"So if I open that laptop, what will I find?" she asked.

Liam looked pensive for a moment, before a wide smile broke across his face.

"Porn," he said confidently.

"Porn?" Belle repeated in disbelief.

"What else am I supposed to do?" Liam joked. "I have a girlfriend who won't even kiss me."

Belle's stomach did a backflip. It was the first time he'd used that word. The first time he'd put any definitions to their relationship.

"Girlfriend?" she parroted him again. 

"Well I'm not in the habit of chauffeuring beautiful young women around town who _aren't_ my girlfriend." 

Belle sat back, looking at her boyfriend haughtily. 

"If that's your qualifications for a significant other, I think I'm really dating Mr. Dove," she smirked. "He's the one who actually chauffeurs."

"Consider him fired," Liam murmured, attempting to pull her in once more for a kiss. But Belle just wiggled out of his arms, standing up.  

"Jealous much?" she asked with a quirk of her brow.

"Terribly," he said, following her. 

"Well, that's too bad," Belle said with a coy look over her shoulder. "I was thinking we could go back to your place and have a proper celebration. But I don't know if I can handle a jealous boyfriend."

A slow grin spread across Liam's face. "You're inviting yourself over now? Oh you're definitely a girlfriend."

Belle just giggled. "Well, Mr. Gold, I suppose I could be prevailed upon to help you with a certain affliction. What kind of girlfriend would I be if I abandoned you to the horrors of internet pornography?"

Liam snorted out a laugh, but then seemed to catch on to what she was saying. 

"You mean..." he trailed off, looking at her with wide eyes. 

"I mean, take me home, Liam," she said, biting her lip shyly.

Suddenly he was a flurry of movement, stuffing several files into his briefcase seemingly at random and rushing out the door of his office, grabbing Belle's hand on the way. As soon as they were safely ensconced in the elevator, he pushed her up against the wall, kissing her at long last. They didn't even bother to push the button for the lobby. 

"You're eager," Belle murmured against his lips.

"You're beautiful," he muttered back, kissing her again, harder this time, filled with fire and longing and need. Belle was thankful for the brass rail at her back that kept her standing. She clung to it with one hand, her other hand tangled in his hair. Liam gripped her thigh, pulling her leg up to hook around his hip and pressed in close. She could feel him hard against her core and she gasped at the contact. She couldn't believe she did this to him. The famous, powerful Mr. Gold, her elevator man, and he wanted her. 

"This is where we met," she sighed out as he abandoned her mouth to kiss across her jaw and down her neck. "My first day, in this elevator."

"Mhmm," Liam replied without lifting his lips from her neck. It sent vibrations through her skin that she swore she could feel down to her very bones. 

"What better place to...you know."

He pulled back at that, looking her in the eye.

"Belle," he panted out. "We can't. Not here. You deserve better."

"I just want you," she moaned, pulling his hand under her skirt toward where she needed him most. When his fingers came in contact with her sodden panties, she gasped aloud. Liam buried his head against her neck with a delicious groan. 

"Fuck," he managed to stutter out before capturing her mouth with his own. He kissed her breathless, his fingers moving against her maddeningly until she was sure she would shatter apart from the small contact alone. 

She reached for his belt, easing the leather from the buckle and getting his pants open in short order. Then she slipped her hand down the front of his trousers, massaging him through his boxers. 

"Fuck, Belle," he moaned, his hips bucking into her hand. Belle grew braver, pulling at his boxers until she could wrap her hand around his cock, the hard, hot length of him heavy against her palm. She was far from experienced in this area, a few boyfriends here and there one of whom had told her on more than one occasion that she wasn't any good at this at all. But the way Liam was responding to her inexpert caresses made her feel powerful. She felt sexy for the first time in her life. 

With a sudden stroke of inspiration, she pulled his hand from beneath her skirt, stepping back and sinking down in front of him.

"Oh, God," Liam breathed out, bracing himself against the railing of the elevator car. Belle stroked him with her hand before closing her mouth around the tip of him and Liam positively howled, his hips quivering in an effort not to thrust into her mouth. 

"Going down?" a voice interrupted their haze of pleasure as the doors to the elevator split open.

Belle squealed and spun around. In her squatted position that had her falling ungracefully on her bum. Liam turned to face the wall, tucking himself away with a murderous look on his face. Then he held a hand out to help Belle up, pulling her to her feet so she could smooth down her skirt. 

"Good evening, Mr. Gold," Graham Humbert said, a smug grin on his face. "As I'm sure you're well aware, our elevators are equipped with cameras. You might want to consider that the next time you're feeling particularly...invigorated."

"Yes, thank you, Mr. Humbert," Gold replied with a grimace. Belle buried her face against his shoulder, sure that it was bright pink.

Graham stepped into the elevator with them, pressing the button for the lobby. The air was painfully silent but for the sound of Liam's teeth grinding together and Graham softly humming to himself. She thought she caught the strains of Aerosmith's "Love in an Elevator" and rolled her eyes. 

"Have a wonderful evening, sir," Graham said with a nod when the elevator doors opened on the lobby. As Liam rushed out of the elevator, Belle trailing behind him with her head down, she could swear she heard Graham laughing.  

It was only later, when she as cuddled up under the sheets with Liam sleeping beside her, her body aching in the best way possible that she realized he'd effectively distracted her from whatever he was hiding in his office. 

* * *

_October 31, 2014_

He'd been with Emma when he received the call. Another date ruined. But that hardly mattered now. Everything Graham Humbert knew, everything he loved, everything he valued in his life was about to come crashing down around his shoulders. 

"I need to speak to Belle," Gold growled out. "Now."

And just like that, everything was about to change. 

They were in danger, or so Gold said. That was nothing new. Graham had been monitoring threats against them for the past nine years. Anytime something came up, anytime someone got too close to the truth, he took care of it. It's what he'd been paid to do, but he'd have done it for free. Belle was his best friend. He couldn't love Lizzie more if she were his own child. He'd stupidly never thought that the threat might come from Gold himself. It had never seemed like an option that the man would come back. His very presence put them all in danger, and there were some messes that even Graham couldn't clean up. And now, after all this time, Belle would finally know the truth.

When Gold entered the living room, Belle slumped to the floor, her body collapsing in a graceful arc. He'd been at her side in a moment, easing her fall. She'd had a shock, but things were about to get so much worse.

* * *

Unconsciousness was a blessed relief. Her mind had been overtaxed, the truth too terrible to bear. And so she'd checked out for a moment, let her mind recharge, let her body attempt to catch up with the curveball that had just been thrown at it. She floated until she could float no more.

The next thing Belle was aware of were a pair of worried brown eyes looking down at her.

“Mommy?” came Lizzie’s frantic little voice. “Are you okay?”

She rubbed at her temples, feeling her headache.

“I’m fine,” she assured her daughter, though she couldn’t quite recall what had happened. She’d been talking to Graham, and then Liam had walked in. What a strange dream. 

She sat up slowly, realizing she was lying on the floor. Graham was kneeling beside her…

The truth came crashing down on her in a heartbeat.

“Oh, no,” she whispered, looking up at Graham’s worried face.

“Belle -- ” he began, but she cut him off.

“Where is he?” she asked frantically.

“Kitchen,” Graham answered. “Went to get you a drink.”

Belle pulled herself up to her feet, her legs shaking but blessedly staying beneath her as she made her way down the hall to the kitchen.

She entered the room, half certain she was still dreaming, to be met with the sight of a well dressed man rooting through her cabinets.

“Oh, God,” she gasped, clapping a hand against her mouth.

Liam turned, smiling that half smile that used to make her melt, with a bottle of dark liquor in his hand.

“You always did have shit taste in whisky,” he said, taking a whiff from the bottle and grimacing. “But, desperate times and all that.”

He proceeded to pour two glasses of the stuff and carry them over to the kitchen table before Belle could get a word out. 

“What…” she stammered. “What are you doing here? _How_ are you here?”

He set the glasses down, turning to look at her fully for the first time.

“I’m not dead,” he said rather uselessly. It was that simple statement that made Belle’s wits come back to her. That all of this, the past nine years of suffering, the mornings she struggled to get out of bed, the sleepless nights, the fucking lifetime of pining away for the man she’d lost, was all for nothing. He was alive, and she was livid.

“What the fuck!” she screamed, not even caring that Lizzie was down the hall and could probably hear her. “I can fucking see that! What…what…”

She was starting to feel vaguely faint again, and Liam rushed forward, concern etched across his face.

“Sit down, sweetheart,” he cooed, trying to push her in to a kitchen chair. But Belle resisted.  The sound of ‘sweetheart’ coming from his lips after all this time, the gentle brogue that used to lull her to sleep when she would lie wrapped up in his arms, it was all too much and the dam broke, tears spilling across her cheeks before she could stop them.

“Why?” she cried, shoving his hands away. “Why would you do this to me?”

“Belle, if I’d had any choice --”

She cut him off with a hard slap to his cheek, the sound ringing out, reverberating against the tiled floor and cream colored walls of her kitchen. The kitchen in the house where she'd raised their child, the house she'd paid for with her money, the life she'd forged for herself alone. The anger swelled in her gut and she couldn’t stop the stream of words that poured out of her. All the things she’d wanted to say to him for nine years, the things she’d wanted to yell at him, the anger she’d felt at his death, it all flooded through her and she had no way to contain it.

“I gave birth alone," she accused, her voice unsteady with rage. "I raised your daughter alone. Every night I go to sleep completely alone.”

Liam just stood there, staring down at his shoes, a hand pressed to the place where she'd struck him. He looked sad. He looked old. He had a gold handled cane clasped in one hand. Funny how she hadn't noticed it at first.  

“Belle --” he said resignedly.

“Do you have any idea how much I loved you? I have mourned you for a bloody decade,” she was screeching at him, her voice reaching a shrill pitch that hurt her own ears but she couldn’t bring herself to care. “And Elizabeth…” she trailed off, unable to voice the depth of her anger on behalf of her child.

"If I could have been here, I would have been," he said, his eyes finally meeting hers. Those brown eyes she used to get lost in. The ones that no matter how dastardly he tried to be had always revealed the gentle heart she thought beat in his chest. The ones he'd passed on to a child he'd abandoned.  

“You left me,” she said quietly, the enormity of that finally setting in. “All these years I thought you were taken from me, but you left me.”

“I didn’t want to,” he said, raking a hand through his long hair leaving it sticking up at odd angles. “Not a day went by I didn’t miss you, sweetheart. You have to believe me.”

“I can’t believe anything you say. You should be a dead man and yet here you are in my kitchen. Nine years ago today was the worst day of my life and I never got over it. Now I find out it was all just a hoax? How do I come back from that?”

He just stared at her, his eyes wide and beseeching. What did he think? That he could waltz back in to her life? That she'd be happy to see him? She was filled with so much anger that there was nothing left, no part of her that was relieved. Her soul was shattered. She'd stunted herself, never let a relationship get too far, judged every man who passed her way against an unattainable standard and for what? A man who had done nothing more than lie to her.  

“I can’t even begin to apologize for what I’ve put you through,” Liam began. “But, Belle, you have to believe that I just did what I thought was best. I…I didn’t know you were pregnant.”

“Would that have made a difference?” she coughed out bitterly. “You would have stayed for your child, but not for me? Is that why you’re here, now? For Elizabeth?” 

“No,” he admitted. "I admit that Lizzie's existence was a surprise and once I saw her I knew I had to stay. But I came back to see you. I never knew we had a daughter."

Belle shook her head, finally sinking down onto the kitchen chair. She couldn't stand any longer. 

“ _We_ don't have a daughter,” she spat angrily. “She’s mine. I birthed her. I raised her. And I did it all on my own. You’re nothing but a sperm donor.”

He looked like she'd just slapped him, and the traitorous part of her heart felt badly for the words. But he deserved it. He deserved every misery she could heap upon him. Gold leaned heavily against his cane, seemingly the only thing keeping him upright.  

"You walk with a cane now?" she commented.

"The accident," he nodded.

"So that was real?" She crossed her arms against her chest. She was angry and confused and heartbroken, but she still wanted to know _how_ even if she never understood _why_.

"Yes," was his succinct answer.  

“I suppose Bailey is just fine too,” she said airily.

Gold stared down at his feet, his expression closing off.

“No, that part was unfortunately true,” he said quietly. “Bae died the night of the accident.”

Belle felt a pang of sympathy for him. She was a parent. She couldn’t even begin to imagine how devastating it must be to lose a child. The anger seemed to leech out of her, leaving her tired.  

"Why?" she asked wearily. "Why did you do it?"

"I had no other option," he said with a shake of his head, his hair falling about his face and obscuring his expression. "There were things I needed to do that you wouldn't have approved of. There were people who would have hurt you to get to me." 

"Even if that's true, it doesn't make a difference," she said, blinking away the tears in her eyes. "You abandoned us."  

Liam nodded. "I know. And I don't expect you to welcome me back into your life. I just want to make sure you're safe."

"Then leave," she breathed out. "Please, leave."

Liam looked at her for a long moment as if drinking her in, then nodded again, limping out of the cheery kitchen. 

"And never speak to my daughter again without my permission," she said to his retreating back. Liam stiffened for a moment before continuing his way out the door. She heard the front door slam shut and the tears came again.

Grabbing one of the glasses of whisky Liam had placed on the table, she downed it in one gulp, taking a steadying breath and trying to compose her thoughts. But there was no way to make sense of what had just happened. Liam was alive. He had left her, alone and pregnant. He'd never tried to contact her in nine long years. The great love of her life, and he'd never really loved her at all. She should hate him.

She should hate him.

She snatched up the second glass of whisky, taking a long sip as Graham entered the kitchen, his face ashen.

"I sent Lizzie up to her room and called Ruby," he said, rubbing his hands together nervously. "I figured you might want to be alone."

Belle shook her head. The last thing in the world she wanted was to be apart from her daughter right now. Lizzie was probably terrified. Lord knows what she'd overheard of her parents conversation. She probably had so many questions, questions Belle wasn't sure she could answer. But here was Graham, a man she'd thought was her closest friend making the executive decisions about her life. 

“You knew,” she said bitterly. “All these years, you knew and you never said a word.”

“I thought I was protecting you,” he defended himself, but his words fell on deaf ears.

“I didn’t need protection,” Belle cried, shaking her head. “I needed him.”

“No you didn’t. He didn’t deserve you. He never has and he never will. The best thing that could have happened to you is if he’d really died that day.”

Belle just stared at him, her lips parted in shock.

“Get out,” she whispered harshly.

“Belle…”

“Get out!” she yelled.

Graham retreated, his hands held up in supplication. 

"For what it's worth, I am sorry."

Belle glared after him, her stomach twisting. It was a miracle she'd kept her dinner down through all of this, and now she rushed to the hall bathroom, emptying the contents of her stomach into the toilet. She felt faint again, sweat breaking out across her forehead. Liam was alive. Graham had betrayed her. The two people in her life she'd always depended on to be honest with her had kept a secret from her for nearly a decade. 

“Mommy?” came a small voice from the bathroom doorway. Lizzie was standing there, still in her Snow White dress, with wide, tear-filled eyes.

“Oh, baby,” Belle cried, pulling herself up and scooping her daughter into her arms. “I’m so sorry we missed trick or treating.”

Lizzie clung to her, burying her face against her mother's neck.

"What's happening?" she asked. 

"I wish I knew," Belle admitted. "But just know that I love you, baby. I love you so much and I'm never going to let anything bad happen to you, okay? I'll protect you."

She carried Lizzie out to the living room, sitting down on the sofa with her daughter cradled in her lap.

“Liam doesn’t know my daddy,” her daughter said sagely. “He is my daddy, isn’t he?”

Belle wasn't sure how to respond, but her silence must have been enough for Lizzie.

"I liked Liam, but if you want me to hate him, I will."

“No,” Belle said with a shake of her head. "I never want that." 

Lizzie snuggled into her arms and Belle had never felt more fiercely protective of her child in all her life. Liam was alive, but Lizzie's birth certificate left the father line blank. She was her daughter, and her's alone. 

* * *

Gary Stone stood in the dark parking lot, pulling his jacket collar up to ward off the chill wind. He hated this low life scum shit he’d been dragged in to. Hopefully the photo he’d found at Belle’s would be enough. Hopefully he’d never have to do anything like this again.

“Mr. Stone,” came a voice from behind him, and Gary spun around to see the man from the bar. “So you’ve unearthed some information for me, have you?”

“Here,” Gary said, thrusting the picture forward until the other man took it. “You want to know the father of Belle’s kid? That’s him. William Gold. An attorney who died several years back.” 

The other man looked down at the photo, a snarl crossing his face at the image. “Oh, I know Mr. Gold quite well,” he said through gritted teeth. “Thank you, Mr. Stone. This was exactly what I was looking for.”

Gary just nodded. “So that payment we talked about…” he started.

“Yes, yes, the matter of your money,” the man sneered. “You’ll get it, Mr. Stone. But first I need you to do something else for me.”

“What?” Gary sputtered. “You said find out who Lizzie’s father was. That was the deal. I held up my end, now you better do the same.”

The man chuckled, pocketing the photograph in his leather jacket.

"I don't think so, Mr. Stone," the man said with a rakish smile. "I now have confirmation that this Miss French and her child should prove quite important to Gold. That makes them incredibly valuable to me and my employer. Since it seems Miss French has some amount of trust in you, you’re in a unique position to be quite useful."

Gary shook his head. This wasn't what he signed up for. It was a miracle Belle had even allowed him in her house to be able to steal the spare key in the first place. He had no illusions that Belle would let him in to her life again.  

“Look, I did what you wanted," he cried angrily. "Give me my money, or…” 

It happened so quickly, Gary didn’t even have time to react. One moment the man was stationary in front of him. The next he had his hooked knife pressed to Gary’s throat, his face mere inches away.

“Don’t mistake me for a patient man, Mr. Stone,” the man growled. “I will slit your throat and watch you struggle for your last breath without batting an eye. Right now, I am close to something I’ve been seeking for years. You are not going to stand in my way.”

The edge of the knife pressed into Gary's throat, stinging against his skin. He could feel blood trickling down his neck, soaking in to the collar of his shirt.

"Fine," he gasped out. The man released him and stepped away, hooking his knife back under his jacket and looking nonchalant once again. It was as though a second personality had emerged and disappeared just as quickly.

"Wonderful, Mr. Stone," he said amiably. "I'll be in contact with further details." 

He reached a hand out, wiping the blood from Gary's neck with a paisley handkerchief. "Terribly sorry about that." Then he turned and walked away, his dark clothing blending into the shadows at the edge of the lot.

“Why do you care so much about a dead man?” Gary couldn't help but call after his retreating back.

“Because, my dear Mr. Stone, the dead don’t always stay that way."

Gary felt a chill down his spine that had nothing to do with the fall weather. 


	11. Rational Creatures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I hate to hear you talk about all women as if they were fine ladies instead of rational creatures. None of us want to be in calm waters all our lives.” Jane Austen, "Persuasion"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for assault at the end of this chapter.

_Ten Years Ago_

The start of Belle’s third year and final year of law school couldn’t have been more hectic. She was finishing up her bar required classes, working several days a week at Midas & Gold, and balancing a new relationship on top of it all.

William Gold was her boyfriend. It was a thought that still had the ability to make her squeal like a school girl into her pillow even several weeks into their clandestine courtship. They kept their distance at work, Belle trying her best to keep from blushing every time he looked her way. Being under Mallory’s watchful eye made her nervous, so she’d been able to rein herself in. The weekends were another matter. She’d taken to spending most of them at his place, shrugging off Ruby’s demands for an explanation of where she was spending her time by saying she needed to study and was pulling long hours at the library.

“What’s his name?” her roommate demanded one Friday evening as Belle was heading out.

“Who?” Belle asked, feigning innocence. She knew she could trust Ruby to keep her secret, but there was something fun about keeping it all under wraps. No one but Graham knew anything about her relationship with Liam, and she liked it that way. Part of her wanted the world to know, but the other part was enjoying having him all to herself with no questions asked.

“The guy you’re obviously screwing,” Ruby said, arms crossed against her chest. “It’s early in the semester, Belle. And no one studies this much, not even you.”

Belle hefted her bag on her shoulder, shrugging nonchalantly. “It’s a busy semester,” she said by way of explanation. “My internship eats up a lot of my time. The weekend is when I get my reading done.”

Ruby arched an eyebrow at her, crossing the room in a few quick strides of her long legs. Before Belle could react, Ruby had pulled her heavily laden bag from her shoulder.

“Tell me, do you usually bring an extra pair of panties to the library?” she asked knowingly, grabbing the pair out of Belle’s bag and twirling it around her index finger. “I didn’t realize law school readings were quite so exciting.”

Belle snatched the underwear out of her roommate’s hand, stuffing it back where it belonged.

“Fine,” she admitted. “There’s a guy.”

“Yeah,” Ruby agreed. “I’d noticed. You’re not exactly great at hiding things.”

Belle chewed on her lip for a long moment silently pleading for Ruby to let it rest. But of course, her friend had other ideas.

“Spill,” she demanded. “Who is he? And why on earth would you hide the fact that you’re getting laid from me?”

Belle fixed her friend with a pleading look. “It’s complicated.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Ruby asked before her eyes widened with a sudden thought. “Oh my God, is he married? Is he a professor? What have you gotten yourself in to?”

“No,” Belle exclaimed. “He’s not married or my professor. It’s just someone I work with and I don’t think it’s the best idea for that to get around.” 

“Oh,” Ruby said knowingly, crossing her arms against her chest. “Intern rivalry getting a little too friendly? Is it that David guy? He was cute.”

“It’s not David,” Belle said with a roll of her eyes. “It’s an attorney, not an intern. Can we leave it at that?”

Ruby narrowed her eyes at her. “Why are you so nervous about this? Don’t you like the guy? Are you embarrassed? Come on, Belle, it’s not like I’m gonna go telling people about your sordid sex life. Just tell me who he is!”

“Fine!” Belle huffed. “But you have to promise not to tell anyone. No one, Ruby.”

 Ruby crossed her fingers over her heart, bouncing on the balls of her feet excitedly.

“It’s Mr. Gold.”

Ruby looked puzzled for a moment. “Mr. Gold? As in Midas _and_? Belle are you fucking your boss?” 

“It’s not like that,” she insisted, grabbing Ruby’s hand. “We’re together. He’s my…boyfriend.”

It was the first time she'd called him that to a third party and Belle could feel the pleased blush staining her cheeks at the words. She only hoped Ruby would believe her when she said he wasn't taking advantage of her.

“Wait, isn’t he the guy who was a complete jerk to you when you first started?” Ruby continued.

Belle let out a sigh. “Would you believe me if I said that was mostly him just awkwardly flirting?”

Ruby rolled her eyes. “So you’re dating your much older boss,” she stated.

“Yep,” Belle agreed, glad to have finally shared the news with someone.

Ruby stared at her for a long moment, processing the information.

“Is the sex good at least?” she asked finally.

“God, yes,” Belle breathed. “Speaking of which, I’ve got to get going. He’s expecting me at his place.”

“Fine, but when you get home on Sunday, I want details!” Ruby called after Belle’s retreating back.

Belle was anything but a liar, and the sex was indeed fantastic. She found herself seated in Liam’s breakfast nook the following morning, stretching out her pleasantly sore muscles from the night before. She was wrapped up in one of Liam’s dress shirts with several depositions spread out on the table in front of her and a cup of tea at her elbow.

Belle had always been an early riser, a fact she didn’t share in common with her new boyfriend. She knew Liam would sleep the morning away if given the chance, so she’d settled in to get some work done. It was while she was rereading a familiar deposition that she found a nugget of information she couldn’t wait to share.

A rumpled looking Liam finally surfaced an hour later, wearing nothing but his bathrobe and looking delightfully disheveled.

“What are you doing up so early?” he asked, trailing a hand over his stubble as he made his way to the coffee pot. 

“I couldn’t sleep so I was looking through the file for the Glass case and I found something I think we should pursue,” Belle answered, still flipping through the file obsessively.

Liam made his way over to the kitchen table, coffee mug in hand. He placed a whiskery kiss against Belle’s neck that made her giggle and swat him away.

“And what’s that?” he returned in his sleepy brogue that was almost distracting.

“The housekeeper, Johanna Morgan? She said briefly that she believed there were two people in the house the night of Leo Blanchard’s murder.”

Liam didn’t respond, just looking at her as though waiting for her to say something groundbreaking.

“So, there might have been someone there besides Sidney,” she exclaimed as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. “We have witness testimony that someone else was there.”

Liam didn’t look convinced, settling into the seat opposite Belle at the table.

“What we have is an old woman on the verge of senility saying there may have been another person in the penthouse. That’s not much to go on.”

“But it’s something,” she shot back. “If Sidney wasn’t alone, it could prove his innocence. I don’t think he pulled the trigger and neither do you, you said so yourself.”

“It doesn’t matter what I think. What matters is that we provide Mr. Glass with the best defense we possibly can. Unfortunately, at the moment, it appears an insanity plea is the best we can do for him. The evidence against him is…”

“Circumstantial at best,” Belle cut him off. “Why are you fighting this? We should talk to Johanna again. We should see if there’s anything else she remembers.”

“Other than her clear memory that Sidney was in the apartment that night with murder weapon in hand? Everything Ms. Morgan has said is damning for our client. We should focus on getting Glass the shortest sentence possible, not chasing phantom men who may not exist!”

Liam pushed his chair out from the table, stalking away back toward the kitchen. It was the first time he’d ever shouted at her and she certainly wasn’t going to let it stand.

“You told me that our job was to provide reasonable doubt,” Belle pointed out, following Liam to the kitchen and leveling him with a glare. “Another person in the penthouse is just that.”

“Belle, please,” he rasped out, still not looking at her. “You’re a wonderful student, but I do this for a living. Can you just trust that I know what I’m doing?”

“But Sidney tried to plead guilty!” she countered. “You yourself said he could have been attempting to cover for someone. Why are we not pursuing that someone?”

“Sweetheart,” he said placatingly, finally turning to look at her. “This is an extremely delicate case. Leo Blanchard was a very public figure. If we go off on tangents looking for people who may not even exist on the word of a less than reliable witness, the District Attorney’s office will tear us to shreds. They want someone to answer for Blanchard’s murder to appease the public. Our best option is to get Mr. Glass the lightest sentence possible.” 

Belle shook her head. “So what?” she scoffed. “This is all some political game and you’re going to let a probably innocent man go to jail and a killer walk free all for what?”

“To make life easier for everyone involved,” he spat back.

Belle nodded, blinking tears out of her eyes. Maybe she was young and idealistic but she thought it was the job of a defense attorney to make sure their innocent client didn’t go to jail. Here Liam was accepting it as inevitable just to appease the most people.

“So you really are as morally bankrupt as people say,” she ground out. Liam looked up at her, stricken. She knew it was probably unfair of her to say. He was doing his job the best way he knew how. But it hurt to put your faith in someone and realize they didn’t deserve it.

“Belle,” he began, but she cut him off before he could try to apologize. She didn’t want to hear it at the moment.

“I think I should go,” she said flatly. “I’ll see you on Monday.”

She darted down the hallway to his bedroom, pulling on her jeans as fast as she could and not even bothering to change out of his shirt. She could return it later. Right now, she just wanted out of the apartment, regardless of the walk of shame she’d have to do to get home.

“Belle, please,” he called after her. “If we’re going to work together we can’t let our professional disagreements extend to our personal relationship.” 

“This isn’t a professional disagreement,” she said, rounding on him. “It’s being a decent person and the fact that you can’t see the distinction is horrifying.”

He stepped back as though she’d slapped him, rendered silent by her words.  

“By all means,” he said coolly, standing aside and motioning her toward the door. “I wouldn’t want you to compromise yourself any further.”

Belle pushed her way down the hall, not glancing back as she strode out the front door of the penthouse. She didn't want to fight with Liam, but she refused to compromise her principles. If he was going to bury evidence that could help Sidney, he was wrong and she wasn't afraid to tell him. 

* * *

_November 1, 2014_

He spent the night in the back of a black sedan parked across from Belle’s house. There was no way he was leaving the vicinity, knowing that Jones was on their scent. It was too dangerous and he’d be there to head off any threat.  Other than a few trick-or-treaters and older teenagers darting around causing trouble, it had been a quiet night. But Gold knew better than most that that could change in the blink of an eye. 

He knew he should have explained himself better to Belle, but she’d been so angry and rightfully so. He’d completely shattered her faith in him, a faith that had lasted long past his supposed death. In one evening he’d managed to destroy everything Belle thought she knew about her life and he would never forgive himself for that. The only thing he could cling to was that his actions were necessary. Belle and Lizzie had to be protected at all costs. Her momentary distress was worth it if it saved her life.

It hadn't helped that seeing her up close for the first time in so many years had left him breathless and stumbling over his own words. She’d always possessed the ability to completely unman him and that certainly hadn’t changed. She was more beautiful now than she’d ever been, shaking off the awkwardness of youth and emerging as a strong, confident and independent woman. She was everything he’d ever wanted and now, despite the truth finally being out and the fact he was currently camped outside her front door, she was further from him than ever. At least when he’d been dead to her, she’d remembered him fondly. Now he’d broken those fragile memories beyond repair. She would truly hate him forever. 

As dawn began to break beyond the horizon, Gold reached through the partition to rouse a lightly dozing Mr. Dove.

“Thank you for service this evening, Dove,” he said, his eyes still trained on the house across the street. The gutters needed a good cleaning. “But I can take it from here.”

“You should get some sleep, sir,” came the man’s deep voice from the front seat.

“There’s no time for that,” he grimaced. “I need you to find Jones and keep an eye on him. I’ll watch over Belle.”

“And if she objects to that, sir?” Dove asked.

“I’ll simply have to better explain the severity of our situation,” he snapped. “Now if you’d please track down Mr. Jones.”

Dove nodded, climbing out of the front seat of the car and rounding the front. It was then that Gold noticed a tiny figure stomping toward the car from across the street. If he’d thought Belle was angry last night, it had nothing on how irate she looked this morning. How someone could look menacing while wrapped in a fluffy pink bathrobe, he had no idea. But Belle somehow managed it.

“Bloody wonderful,” he sighed.

* * *

Belle fell asleep curled around her daughter, clutching her close to her chest as though forces beyond her control might rip her from her arms in the middle of the night. When she awoke the next morning it was with bleary eyes and an aching head. For a few blissful moments, before reality set in, it was just another day. But soon the memories of the night before caught up with her. Liam was alive. Graham had spent the past nine years helping him lie to her. The two men she’d always depended on in her life had betrayed her completely. 

She curled back around Lizzie, burying her face against her sleeping daughter’s hair and breathing her in. She wasn’t sure what Liam wanted from her, why he had decided to surface again after so many years. She had a sinking suspicion he wanted her child. But she’d be damned if she let anyone take Elizabeth away from her.

Liam had mentioned something last night about their being in danger, that his return was an effort to protect them. She knew Liam had his share of shady dealings in the past. It was one of the things she’d had to come to terms with when she was falling in love with him. He had secrets, but she’d always known in her heart that he was a good man. Now she didn’t trust her own memories of him. Who was to say Liam wasn’t lying, using this all as a ploy to get back into their lives? She couldn’t trust him and she only hoped she could trust herself. 

With a sigh she extricated herself from Lizzie and climbed out of her bed. It was a Saturday and her world had been turned on its head, but life went on. Her daughter would wake up soon and she needed breakfast. 

After setting the coffee pot and popping a few frozen waffles into the toaster, Belle pulled on her bathrobe to head out into the chilly fall morning to collect the paper from the front lawn. It was only as she was turning to head back inside that she noticed the black car parked down the street and the familiar large, hulking shape of Mr. Dove.

“Oh, he has some nerve,” she gasped out into the cold air. Her grip tightened around the newspaper in her hand, crumpling it as she set off across the lawn toward the big man.

“Where is he?” she demanded. “Is he too ashamed to show his face so he has you tailing me instead?”

“Ms. French,” Dove said in his soothing baritone. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

Belle ignored him, darting around his hulking figure to bang on the tinted windows of the back seat. A moment later, the door opened to reveal Liam, looking pale and exhausted. 

“You think I wouldn’t recognize Mr. Dove just because you shaved his head?” she demanded, the anger that had been simmering since last night boiling up once again.

“He didn’t shave it,” Dove mumbled. “It’s been a long nine years.”

“Please get in the car, Belle,” Liam said, motioning to the warm interior. “We shouldn’t have this conversation out in the open.”

“What are you doing here?” she asked between clenched teeth, ignoring his request. “I asked you to leave me alone.”

“And I’m very sorry, sweetheart, but I can’t do that. Not until I make sure you’re safe.”

There was that word again. Safe. But if Liam really had a thought for protecting her, he never would have left nine years ago. He would have stayed by her and raised his child. He would have been here.

“Leave, before I call the police,” she stated, marveling at the cold evenness of her own voice. Inside she was filled with turmoil, but she would present a stoic façade to Liam. She wouldn’t break down again.

“Please don’t do that, Belle,” he pleaded. “I’m so sorry for everything that’s happened, but I need you to trust me right now.”

“Trust you!” she scoffed. “Up until a few hours ago I thought you’d been dead for the past nine years. How can you possibly ask me to trust you?”

Liam rubbed at the bridge of his nose, taking his time as if choosing his words carefully. She couldn’t let him manipulate her. She knew first hand how convincing he could be. She’d seen him at work in courtrooms, in conference rooms, in the bedroom. She wouldn’t let him talk his way out of this.

“Because if you don’t,” he stated finally, “You and Elizabeth could both be in terrible danger.” 

Belle just shook her head, refusing to believe him.

“We have been just fine for the past nine years all on our own. We didn’t need you then and we certainly don’t need you now.”

Liam hung his head looking sad and dejected. It was nothing more than what he deserved but some small part of her almost felt sorry for him. He’d done this to himself. He’d missed out on the miracle that was their daughter and he had no one to blame but himself. 

“I am being honest,” he rasped out, looking up at her with eyes filled with pain. “I swear to you. I swear it on Bailey.”

His words were like a jolt to Belle’s heart. Bailey, his son, a boy she’d thought might one day be her stepson. She hadn’t known him well. Usually when she slept over at Liam’s it was weekends when Bae was with his mother. But she’d loved him all the same. And she knew Liam had loved him more than anything. No matter how despicable she thought him now, she knew Liam would never disparage his son’s memory. 

“Liam,” she began, but she wasn’t sure what to say.

“Will you please get in the car?” he ground out, shifting aside to allow her to sit next to him. 

Belle hesitated. She didn’t want to be alone with Liam. She didn’t want to give him the opportunity to explain himself. But at the same time, if there was even the slightest chance he was telling the truth and that Lizzie was in danger, she couldn’t risk it. She needed to know everything.

She shivered in the cold autumn air, pulling her bathrobe tighter around her for both warmth and security. Then she scooted onto the seat next to Liam, slamming the door shut behind her.

“Okay,” she started. “Say I believe you and Lizzie and I are in some kind of danger. Why? What did you do and how does it concern us?”

Now that she was sitting right next to him, she could clearly see how the years had impacted Liam. His eyes were more lined, but more than that they held a strain she’d never seen in them before. While they were once open and warm, now they were shadowed. This wasn’t the same man she’d buried nine years ago.

He was thinner too; the expensive fabric of his suit cut close to the body and revealing the hard leanness of him as though he’d spent his time in anything but luxury. She couldn’t help but be a little glad for that. She’d been mostly miserable without him. It was only fair that he was as well.

She briefly wondered what he saw when he looked at her. She was changed from the 24-year-old optimist he’d known. Did she look different to him? Was he disappointed in what he found? Did she care either way?

Liam seemed to be collecting himself, trying to figure out how best to proceed. She wasn’t inclined to give him that time.

“Well?” she prompted. “I’m here. You have me cornered. What is your great and terrible secret?”

“I made some powerful enemies before I left Boston,” he said haltingly. “I managed to anger the wrong people and they ordered a hit on me. The accident, it was an assassination attempt. I was supposed to have died that night, would have, if not for Mr. Dove and Dr. Whale. Bae was just collateral damage to them.” 

He said the last part bitterly and that small part of Belle’s heart that still beat for the man in front of her twisted at the words.

“I knew they wouldn’t rest until I was dead and I couldn’t put you in that kind of danger, Belle,” he continued, pleading with her for understanding. “I’d already lost my son, I couldn’t lose you too. So, because the opportunity had presented itself, I made the split second decision to let the world think I was dead, including you. It was the only way I could see to make sure you were safe.”

Belle stared at Liam, her mouth open slightly at his confession. He honestly thought he’d done the right thing by her?

“And took away any choice I had in the matter,” she pointed out. “If you’d been honest with me, I could have come with you. I would have waited for you. I would have known that you were alive out there somewhere. But you couldn’t even give me that?”

There were tears in Liam’s eyes now and Belle looked away, not wanting to see them.

“It was too dangerous,” he said, shaking his head. “If you’d had any information on my whereabouts, if anyone even suspected that I was still alive…” he trailed off, leaving the end of sentence to Belle’s imagination.

“Then why are you back now?” she demanded, still staring resolutely out the window at the quiet street. “If you being here puts me in danger, why did you come back?”

“I’ve been busy the past nine years trying to bring down the people who wanted me dead,” he explained. “It was the only way I thought I could ever return to my life, return to you. My investigations brought me back here, to Boston. I didn’t mean to stay, but I had to see you, just once. When I found out about Elizabeth, I couldn’t leave until I knew for sure if she was my child.”

“Well now you know,” Belle said stiffly. “You _are_ the father. Congratulations. You can leave again.”

Liam shook his head again and Belle shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

“I’m afraid it’s not that simple,” he said, sounding truly sorry. “In the course of my investigations here I found that I might not have covered my tracks as well as I’d thought. There are people who believe me to be alive and somehow they know about you and Lizzie.” 

“What are you saying?” she asked, fear prickling up her spine at his words. 

“That these same men who tried to kill me years ago might try to use you and our daughter to lure me out of hiding.”

Now it was Belle’s turn to shake her head.

“Why would anyone do that?” she demanded, her voice growing frantic. “Only a handful of people even know about us. No one knew you were Lizzie’s father. Why would they come after us?”

“Someone figured it out,” he said sadly, staring down at his hand clasped in his lap. “I did all I could to protect you from afar. I had Graham positioned to do what I couldn’t. But I failed you, Belle. And I can’t leave until I set things right.”

An icy, leaden weight had settled in Belle’s stomach and she glanced at her house across the street, thinking of the precious little girl within.

“How do you plan to set things right?” she asked, almost dreading his answer.

Liam sighed, shifting away from her and still not meeting her eyes.

“I’m going to kill the men who want me dead,” he said firmly.

Belle let out a gasp, fear and anger and guilt all swimming in her gut until she thought she’d be overwhelmed by her own emotions.

She shook her head, arms clutching around herself protectively.

“You’re not the man I fell in love with.”

“No,” Liam agreed. “I’m afraid he no longer exists.”

She couldn’t help the tears that spilled over her cheeks. She was afraid, so afraid, for her daughter and herself. And now she was afraid of the man who sat beside her, of the things he would do in her name.

“Please don’t let your hatred for me cause you to gamble with Lizzie’s safety,” Liam said softly. “Once this is taken care of, once I know you’re safe, I’ll leave and you never have to see me again.” 

If only it was that easy. If only she could hate him. Yesterday, Belle had been in love with the memory of the man she’d known. Today she found him alive and well and so different she couldn’t begin to understand him. But she couldn’t hate him. She felt numbness, a phantom tingling like there should be something there but all that was left was a feeling of loss more all encompassing than what she’d known that day nine years ago. Liam hadn’t returned to her. She’d just lost him all over again despite his presence beside her.

“What should we do?” she asked, her voice hollow to her own ears.

“You can’t stay here,” Liam returned. “Is there a friend you could possibly stay with until I can set up a safe house?”

“Ruby and her grandmother,” Belle said succinctly.

Liam nodded. “I’ll keep a look out. If anything changes, I’ll let you know.”

With a stiff nod, Belle climbed out of the Cadillac. She needed to wake Lizzie up, pack and make arrangements with Ruby. If there was the slightest chance someone would want to hurt her daughter she wanted to be as far from it as possible. Before she headed back to the house, she bent over, giving Liam a hard look.

“If anything happens to my daughter because of you, you better believe you haven’t even begun to see my hatred.”

Liam’s face was impassive as she slammed the door and headed back to the house.

* * *

It was perhaps a little early to be so far in his cups, but Gary Stone’s life had taken such a detour lately it hardly registered. The bar was all but empty at 5 in the evening. Normal people had jobs and families, a reason to stay sober, but not Gary.

In the course of a few short weeks he found himself dumped, fired, and now employed by the lowest common denominator, a man he would have looked upon with the utmost loathing less than a month before. Now that man seemed to hold his entire fate in the balance.

But Gary wasn’t a monster. Down on his luck, sure. Desperate, you better fucking believe it. But he couldn’t purposely hurt Belle. He couldn’t kidnap a child.

The man from the bar, Jones he told Gary to call him, had been in contact just like he’d promised. He’d given Gary instructions to bring both Belle and Lizzie to a specified address by Sunday night. If not, there would be consequences.

Jones had said no harm would come to them. He just wanted to use them as bait, to draw out some old foe. But Jones was also clearly insane. William Gold had been dead longer than Lizzie had been living. When his plan didn’t work, who knew what he’d do, how he’d take out his anger?

Gary was angry with Belle, hurt by her. But he didn’t want her harmed.

On the other hand, Gary had no money and no prospects. On top of that he’d seen the look in Jones’ eye when he pulled that knife on him. If he didn’t deliver, the man would surely kill him. Not to mention the shadowy employer that apparently backed him.

What the fuck had he gotten himself into?

He ordered another bourbon, downing it in one large gulp. It was already Saturday afternoon. He had 24 hours to make his decision.

In the end, Gary’s decision was made for him. In the fortuitous way that had seen him through all the dark days of his life, the answer was plopped in his lap so easily he suspected divine intervention.

A chance glance out the window of the bar showed Belle walking briskly down the darkening street outside, coat wrapped around her and head bent against the howling November wind.  Maybe he could talk to her, convince her to come with him. He could leave Lizzie out of it. Maybe Belle could explain to Jones firsthand that William Gold was long dead and this was all some sort of misunderstanding. He could walk away, life and integrity in tact.

Gary stumbled to his feet, ambling out onto the street and following in the direction Belle had gone. He realized they were only a few blocks away from the diner run by Belle’s old roommate. She was probably headed there now.

He shuffled quickly after her, his longer strides catching up to her with ease.

“Belle!” he exclaimed, her posture going rigid at the sound of his voice.

“Gary,” she said, turning to look at him warily. “What are you doing here?”

Gary eyed the street around them warily. It was dusk, the light rapidly fading, but the sidewalk was far from empty. He needed to speak to Belle somewhere more private.

“I need to talk to you,” he said, his hand coming out to grip her shoulder. Belle stepped away, shrugging off his hand.

“Are you drunk?” she asked, eyes narrowing. “Gary, what the hell?”

He ignored her question. What he had to say was too vital for distraction.

“Belle we’re all in danger,” he blurted out. He didn’t think he imagined the way her face paled at that. “There’s this man named Jones. He wants you and Lizzie but I can’t kidnap a little girl, Belle. That’s not me.”

Belle started to back away but Gary followed closely behind her. 

“If you just come with me you can tell him yourself that Gold is dead,” Gary explained, sure that she’d understand if he could just tell her what he knew.

“It was you,” she rasped out. “You’re the one who did this. Somehow you found out about Gold and you told the wrong people, didn’t you Gary?”

Gary shook his head. “They said they’d pay me just for information. I didn’t know this would happen.”

Belle’s face was a mask of outrage.

“How could you?” she spat. “Because of you I could lose everything!”

“No, Belle,” he continued. “If you just come with me, we can fix everything.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” she declared, turning on her heel and striding away from him.

Gary was growing frantic. Belle was his one chance at surviving this. He couldn’t let her get away.

“You have to come with me!” he insisted, grabbing her arm once again. Belle spun around, kicking him hard in the knee before sprinting off down the street.

A few passersby turned to look at them and Gary tried to give them one of his winning smiles.

“Women, right?” he said cajolingly before setting off at a run after Belle. Size and speed were on his side and he caught up to her at the mouth of a narrow alley between two buildings. Grabbing Belle around the waist, he hauled her into the alley, pressing her against a wall.

“You have to listen to me,” he growled.

Belle scrambled against him, letting out a loud scream before he covered her mouth with his hand. Her eyes were frantic and wild, staring up at him like a frightened rabbit. He could feel her heart beat against his chest. She was so small, so fragile, in his hands.

Despite that, she swung her legs out angrily, trying to catch him in the most sensitive parts of his anatomy. Gary just pressed against her harder, pinning her body against the alley wall.

“I’m so sorry, Belle,” he cried, tears blurring his vision. “I wish you’d just married me. None of this would have happened.”

Belle’s nails scratched against his arms as she tried to shake her head free from his grip, but it was no use. He had her trapped.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated. Belle’s beautiful blue eyes stared up at him pleadingly and Gary looked away, unable to face her. Then he pulled her away from the wall, slamming her head back against it with force.

Her eyes rolled back in her head and Belle’s limp form collapsed against him.

"It's okay," Gary cooed, gathering her up in his arms. "Everything is going to be just fine."

He'd bring her to Jones and when she woke up, she could explain everything. If Jones got violent, Gary trusted he could protect her. 

Everything would work out just fine. 

 


	12. Courage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "There is a stubbornness about me that never can bear to be frightened at the will of others. My courage always rises at every attempt to intimidate me." - Jane Austen, "Pride and Prejudice"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains blood, violence and a minor character death warning.

_Ten Years Ago_

The following Monday was the most awkward workday Belle had ever experienced. She hadn’t talked to Liam for the remainder of the weekend, going home to tell Ruby that men were assholes and then heading off to actually study in the library until late Sunday night. He hadn’t called and Belle had tried not to think too hard about it. 

But Monday was a nightmare. She showed up to a meeting that morning only to be sent on a coffee run by Mal. Every time she tried to do work she was gently nudged to the side. Finally Mal stationed her in the library with a file for a drunk driving charge against her own nephew.

Wednesday wasn’t any better though she did manage to see Liam. They passed in the hall and other than a polite nod he gave no indication to have seen her at all. Belle refused to cry over him. Liam was purposely cutting her out and she didn’t have to stand for it. If he wanted out of this relationship, he could tell her to her face.

She turned to follow him down to his office only to have the door shut in her face as he met privately with Midas and Mal.

By Friday, she was steaming. At lunch Mallory showed up in her cubicle to tell her that she was no longer needed on the Glass case at all and would be focusing full time on smaller cases. Her disappointment must have shown on her face.

“Belle, this is a good thing,” Mal said seriously. “It means you can handle them. Come see me if you have any specific questions.”

Belle had had enough. Liam hadn’t said a word to her in a week and now he was having Mal reassign her to other cases. Bullshit that it was a good thing. William Gold was a coward who didn’t have the decency to break up with her. What did he think? He’d just avoid her for the next several months and never have to face her?

She grabbed the stack of case files off her desk and headed up to the 48th floor intent on making Liam face the music.

Blessedly, his secretary was at lunch so there was no one to question her as she rapped hard on his solid office door, barely waiting for an answer before storming in.

“What the hell is this?” she exclaimed, crossing the room and dropping the case load on the desk in front of a startled looking Liam.

“I beg your pardon?” he asked, looking up at her with wide eyes.

“My new case load,” she said, motioning at the haphazard pile. “Something to do with all my free time since I’ve been taken off the Glass case.”

“Yes,” he agreed, staring down at the case files. “You’ll be able to have a more active hand in smaller cases. It’s a better learning experience for you.”

“Oh bullshit,” Belle spat. “You might have sold it that way to Mal but I don’t buy it for a second, Gold.”

She didn’t think she imagined the way he flinched at her use of his surname. She’d grown so used to calling him Liam over the past months that it felt impersonal and cold. She reveled in it.

“You’re the one who said we couldn’t let our professional life effect our personal life and vice versa,” she continued. “And now you’re taking me off the case just because you’re mad at me?”

“No,” he ground out in reply. “I’m taking you off the case because of your insistence on questioning the lead attorney on a high profile murder case. You don’t get to do that just because you’re my girlfriend. You’re an intern, Belle. Learn your place.”

“I’m not,” she said with a shake of her head.

“Not what?”

“Your girlfriend,” she stated flatly. “Goodbye, Mr. Gold.”

* * *

 

_November 2014_

Lizzie’s life had flipped upside down in a matter of hours. Liam was her father. Her mother had barely stopped crying since he’d shown up the night before. She knew her mom told her she didn’t want her to hate Liam, but she couldn’t help the anger she felt when she thought about him now. He’d hurt her mother and Lizzie couldn’t imagine a worse offense.

Now she was sitting on the floral print sofa in Granny Lucas’ living room with the TV tuned to the local news. Granny was dozing lightly in the chair next to her and Ruby was in the kitchen making dinner. Her mom had gone off on an errand she said Lizzie absolutely couldn’t attend and she was starting to get scared. 

“Granny,” she said, pushing the old woman’s shoulder lightly. “Where’s my mom?”

Granny sat up suddenly mumbling something about lasagna before looking over at Lizzie. 

“What, child?” she asked gruffly, straightening her glasses perched on her nose.

“My mom,” Lizzie repeated. “She’s been gone for a while. Where did she go?” 

“She just ran an errand to make sure you were safe,” Granny said succinctly, patting Lizzie’s arm. “Don’t you worry about a thing.” 

Granny yawned once before glancing down at her wristwatch. 

“Good heavens!” she exclaimed. “Ruby!” she called to her granddaughter.

Ruby rushed in from the kitchen as Granny pulled herself out of her chair. 

“You’d better call that number Belle left for emergencies,” she said, all quiet efficiency as she grabbed something from the hall closet and concealed it under her bulky sweater. “I’m going to go do a sweep of the neighborhood.”

“What’s wrong?” Lizzie asked, feeling the panic rising in her chest. Ruby had grabbed her cell phone and was already talking in a low voice to someone on the other end of the line.

“Everything is just fine,” Granny said, though Lizzie couldn’t quite believe her. Without another word the old woman had rushed out the front door of the apartment.

“Ruby?” Lizzie asked, looking to her babysitter for comfort. Ruby had hung up the phone and grabbed Lizzie, pulling her into a hug. “What’s happening?”

“I don’t know, honey,” Ruby said, smoothing down Lizzie’s unruly curls. “We just need to make sure you and your mom are both safe. Granny’s going to find your mom and I’m gonna stay right here with you, okay?”

Lizzie’s stomach sank. Something terrible could be happening to her mother right now and it would be entirely Lizzie’s fault. If she hadn’t wanted to know who her father was, if she’d never spoken to Liam, none of this would be happening.

There was a sudden knock on the apartment door and Lizzie hopped up to get it before Ruby grabbed her, pulling her behind her back. After a quick look through the peephole, Ruby opened the door.

“Miss Lucas,” came a deep booming voice from the hallway. Lizzie peeked out from behind Ruby’s back to see the big, bald man she’d seen the other day with Liam.

“Miss Elizabeth,” he said with a gentle smile that belied his huge stature. “My name is Mr. Dove. I’m here to watch over you until your mother returns.”

Lizzie eyed him suspiciously. It was all Liam’s fault that she wasn’t sleeping at her own house tonight and that her mother wasn’t there in the first place. She didn’t trust his friend.

“That’s what Ruby is for,” she said.

Dove nodded, ducking his way under the doorframe and into the apartment. It suddenly felt far more cramped with the big man there as well.

“And she’s doing an admirable job,” Dove said with another smile. “I’m just here to make sure you’re both safe.”

“From what?” Lizzie demanded. “Everything was fine until Liam showed up and you work for him.”

Dove nodded again. “I am an associate of Mr. Gold’s,” he agreed. “And I can guarantee that we both have your best interest at heart.”

Lizzie clung to Ruby who for her part didn’t seem any warmer to their guest. But she moved out of his way, letting him into the living room. Lizzie didn’t trust him, but he was certainly big enough to protect her from any threats. She just hoped the biggest threat wasn’t her dad.

* * *

Belle awoke to a pounding headache, her mouth dry and the back of her skull aching. She attempted opening her eyes, but the light felt excruciating and she quickly closed them again.

She tried to move, but she seemed to be tied down. Her arms were stretched above her head, feeling numb from lack of blood flow. There was something tied around her ankles as well.

What had happened? She’d had the best of intentions. She took Liam’s warning seriously and moved herself and Lizzie to Granny’s apartment above the diner that very morning. She knew in her bones that Liam would do whatever it took to protect them, whether from love or some sense of duty she wasn't sure. But she could not, would not, let anything happen to her daughter. If she could prevent it, she would.

It was that thought that had driven her out of the safety of Granny’s that afternoon. She could see Liam parked outside the building from Granny's living room window and she'd gone out of her way to avoid him. This was one errand she didn't want him to know about. She would do anything to protect Lizzie even if that meant from her own father. 

She’d gathered the name of a contact of Granny’s who had provided the old woman with a shotgun after the diner had been robbed several years previously. A quick trip down the street, a wad of cash, and very few questions later, Belle had a handgun tucked away in her purse. She just hoped to every known deity she never had to fire it.

She was on her way back to Granny’s when Gary stumbled into her way. The gun weighed heavily in her bag, but she wasn’t about to shoot the poor man. Honestly, Belle wasn’t sure she had it in her at all. The gun was about her peace of mind, having the ability to protect herself and her daughter if her back was up against the wall. In the end, she’d failed in that exact scenario. She didn’t think Gary could ever have been so cruel. She’d always thought him shallow and superficial. Apparently it had all been a façade masking the true monster below. 

She slowly became aware of voices, muffled as though coming from another room, and she strained to hear them. She needed to figure out where she was and how to get out of here as quickly as possible. She needed to get back to Elizabeth. The only thing keeping her from hyperventilating on that front was that Liam was watching the apartment. Surely he would keep their child from harm. Whatever happened to her was secondary as long as Lizzie was safe.

“..the girl,” she heard an unfamiliar voice from the other room say. “Our deal was for both of them.”

“She was alone,” Gary replied. “I did what I could.”

“Well, Mr. Stone, your best isn’t quite good enough it seems,” came the other voice. There was something about his tone, something sinister that sent chills down Belle’s spine. “I need that girl. But for now the mother will have to suffice.”

Belle risked opening her eyes again, slowly this time. Wincing, she blinked trying to clear them. The light appeared to be coming from directly above her, one naked light bulb dangling in an otherwise darkened room. She glanced around at her surroundings taking in that she was in a careworn bedroom. A chest of drawers with a cracked mirror above it was pressed against one wall. The surface beneath her was springy, like a mattress and she craned her neck to see what her hands and feet were bound to.

She appeared to be lashed to an iron framed bed. Her clothes seemed to have remained in tact, she was happy to see. Whatever Gary and the other man wanted with her she was unmolested. She supposed if the true intention was luring Liam out from hiding, they wouldn’t want her any worse for the wear.

A terrifying thought reared at that, her mind starting to panic. Liam had spent nine years concealing the fact that he was alive. He had disappeared in the middle of the night leaving an empty grave and a broken hearted girlfriend in his wake. He had been careful, not risking telling Belle the truth in fear someone would find out he was alive. What if he decided she was an acceptable casualty? He'd only stayed in Boston because of their daughter, not for her.

He wouldn’t come for her now. He knew exactly why she’d been taken. If keeping himself buried was his true intention, she was completely on her own. She couldn’t rely on Gold saving her. She could only hope he would protect Lizzie. Belle would have to save herself.

She looked around the room, trying to find anything that might help her free herself. Her bag was in the corner of the room, hopefully the gun and her phone were still inside. If she could only get to it she could arm herself and call for help.

She pulled at the bindings around her wrists, some kind of thin wire that cut into her skin painfully when she struggled. They held tight. 

A moment later the door to the room cracked open, spilling light in from the hallway outside. Belle shut her eyes immediately, regulating her breathing. If they thought she was unconscious, they might say something that clued her in to where she was. 

“So beautiful,” said the strange voice from somewhere near the doorway. She could hear heavy footsteps on the wooden floorboards growing closer until they stopped beside the bed. She focused all her energy on keeping her breathing even, but she couldn’t help the heavy thud of her heart in her chest.

A fingertip brushed against the side of her face and it was all Belle could do not to flinch away. “Gold never deserved such a treasure. He never did know how to treat a woman.”

“What do we do now?” came Gary’s voice from slightly farther away. At this closer distance Belle could hear a tremor of fear in his voice. He wasn’t in control of this situation. If a man as large and fit as Gary was afraid, Belle wondered what hope there was for her. She wished she knew who the other man was.

“Now we wait,” the other man said. “I can’t imagine Gold won’t realize she’s missing. He’ll come to us.”

“You seem awfully sure that he’ll rise from the dead,” Gary said, a note of mocking in his voice.

“He’s not dead,” came the other man’s biting reply. “He’s very much alive. And he’s going to lose everything just like I did.”

There was a pregnant pause before Gary said anything.

“I thought you wanted Gold,” he said haltingly. “I thought this was just a trap.”

“Yes, yes,” the other man replied impatiently. “So he can watch her die before I kill him too.”

It was only through sheer willpower that Belle didn’t let out a sob. She wasn't just bait. This man was going to kill her, her daughter, and finally Liam. She couldn’t let that happen. Rather than fearing she was on her own, Belle now hoped it was the case. Liam would get Lizzie to safety and not come after her. She was so angry with him for all of his lies, for the situation she now found herself in, but she’d only just gotten him back. She couldn’t lose him again.

“Which is why I need the girl,” the man continued, stepping away from Belle’s side. “I wish I could say job well done, but Miss French is only the first part of this.”

“You can’t kill a child,” Gary said in a hushed voice.

“I can do whatever the hell I want,” the other man laughed. “And, I suppose, if you want something done right, you have to do it yourself.”

He was going after Lizzie. He would hurt her, kill her, to get to Liam. Belle’s own life didn’t matter, she just had to stop that from happening. Maybe if she could keep the man’s attention on her, it would give Liam the time to get Lizzie somewhere safe. The longer he stayed here, the longer he wasn’t out looking for her daughter.

“No!” she exclaimed, sitting up as much as she could whilst tied to the bed. “Please, I’ll do anything. Just leave my daughter alone.”

Both Gary and the other man turned around to face her.

“Miss French!” the man exclaimed. He was handsome. She hadn’t expected that, the image conjured in her head something terrible. Her captor was tall and thin with jet-black hair and blue eyes. Eyes hard as ice. “I’m terribly sorry about the ties but I just don’t trust you not to run. I do hope you understand.”

Belle pulled at the ties in question, wincing as pain lanced through her wrists. The man made a sympathetic noise at the back of his throat.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked, happy with the steadiness of her own voice. She had to stay calm. If she gave way to the panic it wouldn’t do anyone any good. She would be lost.

“It’s not enough to just take the woman Gold loves from him,” her captor said with a shake of his head. “I have to destroy everything he holds dear and sadly for you, my dear, that includes your little bastard.”

Belle shook her head. “He’s dead,” she lied. “And even if he wasn’t, my daughter isn’t his. Why would he care about her?”

“Oh we both know that’s a lie,” he returned. “Now, I’m going to collect your daughter and we can have ourselves a nice family reunion. All the Gold’s under one roof.”

“She’s not his daughter!” Belle called after the man’s retreating back, but he was no longer listening to her.

“Make sure she doesn’t do anything stupid, won’t you, Mr. Stone?” he said, patting Gary on the shoulder as he passed. And then he was gone, leaving Belle and Gary alone in the dingy bedroom.

“Gary, please,” she pleaded as soon as she heard a door slam behind the other man. “You have to let me go. I have to protect Lizzie.”

Gary nodded, rushing forward and cutting the bonds around her wrists with a small pocketknife. Then he untied her feet before helping her stand.

“I’m sorry, Belle,” he said, tears in his eyes. “I didn’t mean for this to happen. I thought you could tell him yourself that Gold was dead and he’d let us all go, realize it was a stupid plan.”

Belle rubbed at her raw wrists, trying to work the feeling back into them. “He’s a madman,” she spat. “Who is he?”

“His name is Killian Jones and he’s got a grudge against your old boyfriend for some reason. I didn’t ask for details.”

“Right now, I don’t care,” Belle said, ripping the bottom of her skirt away to make a make shift bandage for her bleeding wrist. “I just need to get to Lizzie. Do you have a car?”

Gary nodded. “It’s out front. We need to get out of here before Jones gets back.”

There was a spray of something warm across Belle’s face and she looked up to see a hooked knife embedded in the side of Gary’s throat. His eyes went wide, his big hands coming up to claw at the blade. Belle wanted to scream but there seemed to be no air left in her lungs, her eyes riveted on Gary's as he struggled.

“Didn’t I tell you I’d slit your throat if you stood in my way?” Jones growled appearing over Gary’s shoulder. He wrenched the knife to the side, blood spilling from the gaping wound in Gary’s neck as he fell to his knees. "I knew you were too soft the moment you showed up here without the girl." 

Belle stared in horror for a moment before her reflexes kicked in. She dove over the bed to the other side of the room grabbing for her purse. Her hands closed around the cold handle of her gun before Jones grabbed her by the shoulder, hauling her backward.

He slammed her back down against the bed, the gun skittering out of her hand and landing next to Gary’s prone form where he was still gurgling for breath, slowly bleeding out on the dusty floor.

“This is why I had to tie you up,” Jones said calmly.

Belle struggled against him, but he threw her backward so hard that she bounced as he bent to retrieve her gun.

“Good help is just so hard to find these days,” he said, casting one last glance at Gary before training the gun on Belle.

“Why are you doing this?” she demanded, her eyes flicking between the barrel of the gun and Gary. He’d stopped moving, the blood pouring from his neck now an inky black. If only she had her phone she could call an ambulance. But she knew it would be too late.

Jones cocked his head to the side considering Belle for a long moment.

“I do suppose I owe you an explanation, don’t I?” he said reasonably. “Gold took something from me, something very precious. I swore vengeance on him. I’m very sorry you’ve been caught in the middle of all this, but collateral damage.”

“Gold is dead,” Belle spat. “He’s been dead for nine years. What good is vengeance against a dead man?”

Jones clucked his tongue, waving the gun back and forth in a ticking motion.

“That’s a lie and you know it,” he said in a singsong voice in motion with the gun’s movement. “Why are you protecting him after all this time? He left you alone to raise his child while he’s been gallivanting across the globe for the better part of a decade. You owe him nothing, love.”

Belle tried not to let his words land a blow, but they struck too close to the heart of her insecurities. She’d been mourning Liam, in love with his memory for nine long years. He claimed not a day went by when he hadn’t thought of her. But how could she know if that was true? How could she trust his word? He could have been anywhere the past nine years, with anyone.

“Now, now, love,” Jones said, reaching forward to brush away the tear she didn’t realize she’d shed. She flinched back from his touch, her back coming into sharp contact with the iron headboard. She felt one of the posts give slightly behind her. “There’s no sense in wasting tears over Gold of all people. Not after you hear what he’s done.”

Belle steeled herself, crossing her arms behind her back and wrapping one hand around the loosened post. If she was going to make it out of this situation, she had to keep Jones talking.

“What’s he done?” she asked.

“Does the name Milah Cassidy mean anything to you?” he answered her question with one of his own. 

It was a name she hadn’t heard in years. A woman she’d never met, but was certainly aware of.

“Liam’s ex-wife,” she answered.

“Very good, Miss French,” Jones said approvingly. “Milah was married to that bastard. And he murdered her. Shot her down like a dog. Is that a man worth protecting?”

Belle twisted her wrist, the post giving way a little more beneath her hands.

“Why would he have killed her?”

“Because she had the good sense to leave him. Because she found herself a better man. Because she never loved him and he couldn’t handle it.”

Belle shook her head. Liam had certainly had no fondness for his ex-wife, but he didn’t hate her. He would never have killed her. She was Bae’s mother.

“You’re lying,” she shot back.

“Am I?”

“Yes,” she said with absolute conviction. Another twist of her wrist and the post came lose in her hand, but Belle kept her arms behind her back. “And what does it matter anyway?” she goaded. “Gold is dead. He died in a car accident nine years ago and nothing you say will change that.” 

Jones leaned forward, pressing the barrel of her new gun underneath her chin, forcing her to look up at him. 

“And yet he murdered Milah only three years ago,” he said through gritted teeth. “You’re a smart woman. You can’t tell me that math adds up.”

“Then you must be mistaken about what happened to your precious Milah,” she shot back, refusing to let the gun intimidate her. He wanted her to die in front of Gold. He wouldn’t pull the trigger before hand.

Jones sat down on the bed beside her, resting the gun in his lap. 

“So loyal,” he sighed. “So lovely. So brave. I do hope Gold proves worth your trouble.”

With the gun lowered, Belle finally had her chance. She pulled the iron post from behind her back, slamming it hard into the side of Jones’ face. He fell to the ground beside Gary with a thud and Belle didn’t wait to see if he was down for the count. She leapt off the bed, rushing out of the bedroom door. There was a stairway just to the left of the bedroom she’d been in and she ran down it making her way to a small hallway downstairs. The house was an old Victorian, probably once grand, but fallen into disrepair. The rugs were threadbare beneath her feet as she found herself in what must have once been a parlor but seemed overtaken by an assortment of junky old furniture.

She was running on pure adrenaline, but something at the back of her mind wondered at Jones’ choice for a hideaway.

She finally made it to the front door of the house only to find it deadbolted shut. She wrenched at the door handle to no avail until she heard a throat clear behind her. Jones was there in the entryway, the gun still in his hand. He had a gash along the side of his head where she’d struck him but otherwise looked no worse for wear.

“You are either very brave, or very stupid,” he said smugly, motioning her back into the parlor with the gun. “But I like a woman with spirit. Gold and I apparently have that in common.”

He motioned for her to sit in a dusty wing backed chair and she had no option but to comply. 

“Now, are you going to be a good girl and wait here patiently for your knight in shining armor to appear?”

Belle couldn’t help but roll her eyes at Jones’ condescending tone. She’d just beat him upside the head and she’d find a way to do it again. No matter what, the fact that he was here and not abducting her daughter gave her peace. 

“For the sake of argument say Gold is alive,” she spat. I haven’t seen him in nine years. What makes you think he’d come for me?”

“Oh don’t sell yourself short, sweetheart,” came a familiar voice before a gold tipped cane came down hard against Jones’ shoulder, the man collapsing under the blow. Liam used surprise to his advantage, whacking the gun out of Jones’ hand and landing a few more well placed hits before the other man was curled in on himself on the parlor floor. Gold grabbed the gun from the floor, looking over Jones with disgust.

Belle had never seen a show of violence from Liam before. Could never have even imagined it. He was so different now from the man she remembered.

“Liam,” she managed to whisper. He turned from Jones’ prone form, the fury in his face relaxing immediately into something softer.

“Are you alright?” his voice was strained, his face paled as his eyes searched her form frantically. “You’re hurt.”

Belle followed his line of sight down to the blood sprayed across her blouse. 

“It’s not mine,” she said numbly, thinking of Gary upstairs. They needed to call an ambulance. They needed to call the police.

Liam had come for her. He was here. He had the upper hand. Maybe they would survive this after all. A buzzing started in Belle’s ears, the blood rushing through her veins and making her almost dizzy.

Liam was here. He had come for her.  

* * *

The sight of Belle with blood spattered across her face and clothing was the single worst image he’d been faced with in nearly a decade, the culmination of all his fears made real. 

“It’s not mine,” she said, staring down at Jones on the floor.

Dove had alerted him earlier to where Jones was staying. A familiar house, one he hadn’t set foot in in years. He wondered if Milah had cleared out the place or if some of Bae’s things were still in his childhood bedroom. He supposed it didn’t do much good to look. His son was dead. The man before him had helped see to that. 

He’d been parked only a block away from Granny’s. He wasn’t sure how Belle had ended up in Jones’ clutches, but when he’d had the frantic call from Ruby an hour ago he knew he had to be the one to save Belle. Granny had recovered Belle’s cell phone in an alley not far from where Gold had been parked. She’d been taken from right under his nose. Dove would keep Lizzie safe and get her to the cabin. Gold had come here.

Jones coughed, calling Gold’s attention back to him and he smacked him again with the handle of his cane. This man had brought nothing but misery into his life. If he’d never met Milah, none of the events of the past nine years would have happened. Not in the same way at least.

Belle looked faint and he was glad she was sitting down. He couldn’t imagine what she’d been through in the past few hours, just whose blood was covering her. She never should have been in this position. She shouldn’t have to see what was about to happen now. 

“What does Zorza want?” he asked, directing the question to Jones. “How does he know I’m alive?”

“Zorza!” Killian said with genuine surprise. “You think that’s what this is about? You think he's the only one who wants your head? You took everything from me, you bastard. This is just payback.”

Could it really be that simple? An eye for an eye, Killian trying to get vengeance for Milah’s supposed murder? Would this cycle ever end?

“You still work for Zorza,” he growled. “What have you told him?”

"I don't work for him, not truly," Jones hacked out, a laugh bubbling from his bloodied lips. "Anyway, he's the least of your problems. Milah was in contact with someone else before you murdered her."

"Who, then?" Gold snarled, grabbing the other man by the shirt and pulling him upright. "Tell me." 

"I don't think I will," Jones spat back. "I want you to spend the rest of your days looking over your shoulder knowing your bitch and your brat will never be safe. I want you to feel even a fraction of the fear you caused Milah."

Gold pressed the cold tip of the discarded handgun to the underside of Killian's jaw. "You tell me right this minute, or I'll blow your fucking head off."

To his surprise, the other man just laughed again, rasping out in gurgling gasps, the blood and saliva spraying Gold's face.

"You're gonna have to kill me then, mate."

"You think I won't?" he threatened, raising the gun and slamming the butt of it into the side of Killian’s face. The pain hardly seemed to faze him.

"Do it!" Killian snarled, his eyes filled with fury. "If you don’t, I will hunt you every day of your life. I won't stop until you suffer as I have. I will slice your daughter open and tear out her heart!"

Gold released Jones' shirtfront, watching him clatter back weakly to the ground. A cold feeling had enveloped him. One he recognized. He didn’t want Belle to see this.

"Belle," he said, without taking his eyes off the other man. "Go." 

"Liam," she replied shakily. "Please..."

"Go," he said, more firmly this time. After a long moment of silence punctuated only by Killian’s rasping breath and Belle’s sniffles, he heard the sound of her heels as she ran down the hall to the back of the house. 

"Kill me," Jones said, the fight leaving his body. "My life is agony."

Gold stared down at the man who had once been his rival. He felt anger, he felt hatred, he felt pity.

"Do it!" Jones screamed.

Gold pulled the trigger.


	13. Come Clean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "We have all a better guide in ourselves, if we would attend to it, than any other person can be." - Jane Austen, "Mansfield Park"

_Ten Years Ago_

It had been weeks since their break up and Belle was relatively surprised to still have a job at Midas & Gold. Her opinion of Liam hadn’t fallen quite so low as to think he would fire her solely for dumping him, but it probably would have made things easier on them both.

She had arrived to her desk the Monday after ending things to find a huge bouquet of flowers waiting for her. There was no note, not that she needed one to surmise who they were from, and she’d promptly thrown them in the garbage bin.

He’d attempted calling her a few times, but she ignored it every time. Half of her wanted to talk to him, to tell him everything was fine and she’d overreacted. But the other half of her was still hurt. He’d cut her out professionally because of a personal disagreement. He was willing to allow an innocent man to go to jail for a murder he didn’t commit all because it would cause the least amount of waves. There was something so callous about it, so arbitrarily cruel. She couldn’t reconcile it with the man he’d been with her in private. How could her Liam be so morally bankrupt?

A few days after the flowers and phone calls, she arrived at her desk to find the man himself.

“Miss French,” he said, standing up quickly from where he was perched at the end of her desk and smoothing down his suit jacket with nervous hands. “How are you this morning?”

Belle hesitated in the doorway of the office, her breath catching. It was the first time they’d spoken since she’d told him she was no longer his girlfriend.

“Mr. Gold,” she said finally, making her way into the room and setting her coffee cup down on her desk. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“Belle,” he whispered roughly, catching her arm as she tried to walk around the desk to her seat. “Please talk to me.”

She shrugged his hand off, sitting down at her chair and fixing him with a hard look.

“I am talking to you, Mr. Gold,” she reiterated. “If there’s something work related I can help you with, please let me know. Otherwise I need to get started on this latest round of misdemeanors.” She patted the stack of files and paperwork beside her on the desk to emphasize her point.

“It’s a good thing, you know,” he said earnestly, eyes skimming over the top file. “It means the firm trusts you with these smaller tasks. You’re getting far more experience than you would assisting on a murder trial where you’re not allowed to do anything for yourself.”

Belle glanced up at him with exasperation.

“It means exactly the opposite. It means  _you_  don’t trust me enough. You told me when I first started working here that half the job is instincts. My instincts tell me that Sidney Glass was not alone the night of Blanchard’s murder. There was someone else there. But you won’t even pursue it.”

“It’s not enough to hang a defense on, Belle,” he said wearily. “You have to trust me on that.”

Belle just nodded. “That well may be. But Sidney is innocent and we should be able to prove it. Otherwise why are you the top defense attorney in the state?”

Liam’s jaw tightened, his eyes flicking away from her almost guiltily.

“I should get back to my office,” he said, looking down at his watch and still avoiding her eyes. “Have a good day, Miss French.”

After that, the phone calls stopped. No further outreach with flowers or attempts at conversation. Belle hardly saw Liam at all in the intervening weeks. She was reminded strongly of those first weeks at the firm when Mr. Gold had been an enigma. Now he was just her ex boyfriend and she was the stupid intern who’d slept with a partner.

The Sidney Glass case was set to go to trial the following week and the entire office was geared toward it and the ensuing media frenzy surrounding the Blanchard murder. Belle felt she couldn’t escape it even though she’d been pawned off on Abigail Midas and mindless real estate work to keep her away from the criminal defense side of things. Every news channel seemed to have 24-hour coverage. Every time she turned on the TV she saw Liam’s face. She couldn’t wait for the stupid trial to be over even as badly as she felt about Sidney’s chances at walking away a free man.

The Friday before the first court date, Belle received a strange phone call. She’d just returned from lunch, sitting down at her desk just as the phone rang.

“Midas & Gold, this is Belle French,” she answered dutifully.

“Belle,” came a breathless voice from the other end of the line. “It’s Regina Mills. How are you?”

Belle paused for a moment wondering what Regina could possibly want from her. They had hardly been friends during the time of their internship. Regina was far too competitive to truly be friendly and had seemed to despise Belle for the attention she received from Mal and Liam. That wasn’t even touching on whatever had transpired in the past between her mother and Liam.

“Regina,” she said warily. “I’m well, how are you?”

“Great,” the other woman said and Belle could almost imagine her flipping her raven dark hair over one shoulder, lips pulled back in one of her false smiles. “Halfway through the final year and all. I’ve had a few job offers so far but I’m not settled on one in particular yet. You?”

“I’m managing,” Belle choked out. She’d yet to receive a permanent offer from Midas & Gold and she wasn’t sure she could accept even if one was extended. The idea of working permanently in an office with a man she had such conflicting feelings about was unnerving at best. She’d applied for a few judicial clerkships and was holding out hope for a positive result. “Look, Regina, I think we both know this isn’t a social call. Is there something I can help you with?”

There was a rush of breath on the other end of the line and Belle could almost feel the mask dissolving from Regina’s face.

“Are you still assisting on the Sidney Glass case?” came Regina’s voice, low and hesitant.

“No,” Belle answered truthfully. “And even if I was, you know I couldn’t possibly tell you anything about it.”

“I know,” Regina said quickly, her voice sounding small. “I just…Belle, I’ve heard some worrying things lately and I wanted to know if there was any truth to it.”

“Like what?” she asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

“That there are some last minute witness testimonies happening, that the defense might have more than a few tricks up their sleeves.”

Belle hadn’t talked to anyone about the particulars of the case since her last conversation with Liam. If the defense had found a new tactic, she was completely in the dark. But she couldn’t help but hope that Liam’s conscience had got the better of him.

“Why would that be worrying?” she asked Regina. “I thought Sidney was a friend of your family, surely you want him to get off.”

“Yeah, that would be great for Sidney,” Regina said, her voice trembling a bit. “Good luck with everything, Belle.”

With that Regina hung up the phone, leaving Belle feeling even more confused.

As the day wore on she became more and more curious about what Liam was possibly planning. She had no right to ask, she knew. She was no longer privy to the defense team’s moves, her punishment for questioning the high and mighty William Gold. But she still found herself outside his office at the end of the day. She figured he’d be working through the weekend, preparing for court, and she found his office light still on after most of the employees had cleared out for the weekend.

Liam was hunched over his computer as she glanced in. He’d lost his suit jacket, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows and his tie hanging lose about his neck. There was a carton of half eaten Chinese takeout next to him and he was, for the moment, completely oblivious to her presence.

“Mr. Gold,” she said, hating the way her voice wavered. She had nothing to fear from him. Part of her still loved him. It was getting harder to remember her righteous fury as the weeks carried on. She missed him.

Liam startled, looking up at her. “Belle,” he rasped out in that way that made her slightly weak in the knees. He always said her name with such wonder, as though he couldn’t believe she were real. “I’m afraid you missed Mal if you’re looking for her. She just stepped out.”

“I wasn’t,” Belle clarified, stepping inside his office and shutting the door behind her. Liam looked vaguely nervous at that, as though she might yell at him once again. “I was looking for you.”

“Oh,” he managed, looking uncomfortable in his own skin.

“I wanted to tell you good luck,” she said. “In case I don’t see you before Monday.”

“Thank you,” he replied automatically. “I think we’ve set up a good defense.”

Belle simply nodded. “I heard there were some last minute changes to your strategy,” she said casually.

Liam glanced down at his desk, a rush of breath escaping him.

“You were right,” he said, not looking up at her. 

“About what?” she ventured.

“Everything,” Liam sighed, leaning back in his office chair. “I wasn’t upholding my duty. I wasn’t providing the best defense I could. I merely took your advice.”

“Johanna’s testimony?” she asked, walking closer to his desk.

“Yes,” he replied. “And as it turns out, there were some discrepancies in the testimony of the building security guard on the night in question. Further investigation led him to admit that he’d excused himself to the restroom for twenty or so minutes at the precise time Sidney and any accomplice of his would have entered the building.”

“So the security guard lied about seeing Sidney come in alone,” Belle exclaimed.

“It would appear so,” Liam replied with a shrug. “That coupled with Johanna’s deposition gives us just the seed of doubt we need. Both are witnesses for the state and I should be able to poke holes in the prosecution’s narrative of the night’s events during cross-examination. There’s still the fact that Mr. Glass was found with the murder weapon in hand, but given his lack of motive, he might have a chance.”

Belle felt breathless. Sidney might have a chance after all. Part of her thrilled at the idea that she had been the reason for all of this. The other part of her tamped down on that hard. Liam should do his job because he was a decent man not because she made him.

“What made you change your mind?” she asked hesitantly.

“I should think that was obvious,” he said, eyes still downcast. “I saw myself through your eyes and I didn’t like what it revealed. I couldn’t bear to live in a world where you think badly of me, Belle.”  

“So you did it for me?” she asked, arms crossed.

“I did it because it’s the right thing to do,” he countered looking down at his fingernails critically. “But you reminded me of what that was. So thank you.”

Belle could feel the tears springing to her eyes at his admission. It hadn’t been her intention to blackmail him into submission, to force his hand by withholding herself. She suddenly felt so silly, so juvenile, like a child playing games. If she wanted to remind Liam of what was important, she should have stood by his side, not cut all ties between them. And now here he was saying such lovely things to her.

“Look I didn’t end things between us to force you into anything,” she said finally.

“I know that,” Liam said, standing from his chair and rounding the desk to her side.

“I just couldn’t be with someone who didn’t trust me, who kept things from me,” she clarified. “I need your honesty and I don’t want you to be perfect I just want you to be that good man that I know is in there.”

“Sweetheart,” he sighed, reaching up to swipe away a tear that had fallen down her cheek. “You didn’t force me into anything. You were my inspiration, yes, but that’s a good thing.”

She bit her lip, looking up at him through tear filled eyes. He had done the right thing. He was a good man and she hadn’t stood by him. She hadn’t had faith in him. She had judged him harshly and quickly because he didn’t bend to her whims and cut him out as punishment.

“I’m sorry I cut you out,” she said, the words bubbling out of her.

“I’m sorry I was an unreasonable ass,” he countered. “I’m sorry I hurt you.”

Belle shook her head. “You’re a great attorney. I’m sorry I didn’t have faith in you.”

Liam chuckled, taking her face between his palms and cradling it like she was something precious.

“And I’m sorry I let the stress of this job come between us,” he soothed. “I promised myself long ago that if I was ever lucky enough to have love in my life again I wouldn’t squander it.”

Belle breathed in sharply at that.

“Love?” she asked tentatively.

Liam’s eyes softened, his thumbs stroking across her cheeks.

“I love you, Belle,” he said quietly, his eyes dropping from hers as though awaiting her rejection, waiting for her to pull away.

Instead she seized him by the shirtfront and kissed him.

* * *

_November 2014_

The drive was painfully silent at first.

Belle was seated in the front seat of a black Cadillac, her arms wrapped around herself as she tried to control her shaking and process what had happened. Liam had cranked up the heat, pointing the vents in her direction, but it wasn’t doing any good.

Gary was dead, that much was certain. Liam had settled her in the car before he went up to check on the body at Belle’s insistence, but she knew his fate. She had seen the life leach from him with her own eyes. Killian Jones had followed him in death shortly after at the hands of the man beside her. At least she’d been spared that bit of violence. She’d made it halfway down the hall before she heard a lone gunshot ring out, her legs giving out at exactly what kind of man Liam had become.

And the worst part of all was that she was glad, glad the man was gone, and glad her daughter was safe. She was glad Liam had come for her and she wasn’t as dead as Gary on the floor of that dusty old house. What did that make her?

“Belle,” Liam said finally, looking at her warily as the trees whipped by them outside the car. “Can you speak to me, please?”

“You killed him,” she rasped out finally, the thing that had been haunting her for the past half hour of their drive. “That man, you killed him.”

Liam was silent, just staring at the road ahead of them.

“And I’m glad you killed him,” she choked on the admission like bile. She might as well be a killer too. She hated herself in that moment, hated her own weakness.

Liam reached over to her tentatively, placing a hand on her arm and giving it a gentle squeeze, but it offered no comfort.

“What he said about Milah,” she continued. “Was it true? Did you kill her too?”

A grimace crossed his face replaced by steely resolve as he pulled his hand back.

“I was responsible for her death, yes,” he replied, his voice a dull monotone.

Belle let out a gasp, covering her mouth with her trembling hands. She couldn’t help it. The tears welled up and finally spilled over. He’d been so different, this man who’d returned to her wearing her dead lover’s face. But she couldn’t imagine a world where he was a murderer, where he would kill the mother of his child.

“Stop the car,” she stated.

“Belle, please.”

“Stop the car!” she repeated, gripping on to her door handle. If she had to she’d jump. She wasn’t going anywhere with him.

Liam slammed on the brakes as Belle got the door open, stumbling out onto the deserted street. They were surrounded on all sides by thick forest, the scent of pine clinging to the chill autumn air. She had no idea where she was, no phone, no money on her. But she had to get away from Liam. She had to get to her daughter and make sure she was safe. She had to hold Lizzie in her arms and know for sure.

“Belle,” Liam called after her, the click of his cane and shuffle of his footsteps following her. “Please get back in the car.”

“I need my daughter,” she said, the tears in her eyes blinding as she forced herself to continue forward. The wind was biting, the heavy clouds above blocking out the late afternoon sun and threatening snow. But she didn’t care. She wanted to decide something for once in her life, not have Liam in the background manipulating things, pulling strings she didn’t even know existed.

“I’m taking you to her,” Liam insisted. “Dove has her at a safe house. The old cabin, you remember it?”

Belle hesitated, her mind flooded with memories she no longer wanted. Of weekends curled up in front of the fire at the old retreat, of mornings lazing in bed with him, of summer afternoons lying out in the sun beside the lake. She shoved them away angrily.

“Please, Belle,” he pleaded. “Get in the car and I’ll take you to her. You heard what Jones said. He isn’t the only threat. You’re not safe by yourself.”

She wheeled around at that. “I’m not safe with you!” she exclaimed. “Who are you? Where’s the man I fell in love with? I don’t know you anymore.”

“No,” he said dejectedly. “I don’t suppose you do.”

She swiped at the tears on her cheeks angrily. She wished Liam had never come back. She wished she still had the memories of the good man he’d been unmarred by this bastardization in front of her. She wished everything were different.

“Please get back in the car, Belle,” he repeated. “I’ll take you to Elizabeth and I’ll keep you safe until this all over with. Then you can go about your life as though I never came back.”

Belle scoffed. “That would be impossible, Liam,” she all but shouted. “Gary is dead on the floor of some dusty old house. You killed the man who murdered him. I don’t, I’m just…” she tapered off, the shaking starting up anew. The only dead body Belle had ever seen before was her mother’s. She’d been sick for months and wasted away in her hospital bed until she was just a husk, an empty shell that her mother no longer resided in. But it hadn’t been violent. She’d never witnessed the streams of blood that could pour from a person’s body when injured. She’d never seen so much death. And to know that Liam was responsible for such things, had done similarly to Milah and who knew how many others.

“You’re in shock,” he said calmly, walking toward her. “Please let me get you somewhere safe.”

“You killed one mother of your child,” she rasped out through chattering teeth. “Why should I feel remotely safe with you?”

Liam stumbled back, his hand dropping from where it was outstretched to her.

“I would never hurt you,” he swore, his large brown eyes shimmering in the pale gloom that had settled over the street.

“I’m sure there was a time Milah thought the same.”

“Let me explain,” he interrupted.

“There’s nothing you could say that could possibly explain that,” she spat. “I defended you to Jones. I said you could never do such a thing. I still had faith in you despite all the bullshit you’ve put me through for the past decade. So what could you possibly have to say that I would want to hear?”

She finished, flushed and angry and trembling. Liam’s face crumpled at her words, looking more downtrodden than she’d ever seen him.

“She killed Bailey,” he said resignedly, his words ringing out in the frigid air.  

Of all the ways he could have answered her question, that was the least expected.

“What?” she demanded. “You said he died in the accident, that it was part of hit carried out on you.”

Liam nodded. “It was. A hit carried out by Milah. If you come with me, I promise I’ll explain everything. For God’s sake Belle, it’s about to snow. We need to get to the cabin while the roads are still viable.”

Belle tugged her coat closer around her, her hands still shaking whether from cold or nerves or shock she couldn’t be certain. But now that her mind was clearing, she could see that Liam was being the rational one. She couldn’t walk back to Boston. She had no way of contacting anyone. She was at his mercy.

And something about his voice when he said Milah had killed Bailey. Belle had recently felt the sheer panic of a parent faced with losing a child. If Jones had succeeded in the unthinkable, if he had done something to her daughter, what wouldn’t she have done for vengeance?

She walked back to the car, climbing inside the passenger’s side without another word. A moment later, Liam followed her.

They pulled up in front of a two-story log cabin not fifteen minutes later. There was smoke coming from the chimney, light spilling out of curtained windows and illuminating the quickly approaching night outside. It almost looked homey if Belle could forget the reason she was here. She could almost pretend the past nine years had never happened, that she and Liam had come to the cabin for a long weekend on a Friday after work. But one glance at the man in question sent those thoughts flitting from her head.

“You’ll need to wash up before you see Elizabeth,” he said, gesturing to the blood still splattered across Belle’s clothing.

She nodded, feeling hollow.

“I had Dove collect your luggage from Granny’s,” he continued almost conversationally. “You can use the downstairs bathroom. I’ll let Dove know to keep Lizzie upstairs.”

Once she was safely ensconced in the bathroom, Belle scrubbed her face and neck clean, the sight of the pink tinged water swirling down the sink drain enough to have her retching in the toilet. She needed a shower. She needed to wash away Jones’ hands and Gary’s blood and the creeping feeling in her skin that she’d never be safe again. But first she had to see Lizzie. She had to comfort her frightened child. Once that was done, she could break down, but not before.

She pulled out a clean shirt from her bag, balling up the blood spattered one and stuffing it into the bathroom wastebasket. She never wanted to see the accursed thing again. When she was sure she looked presentable and wouldn’t terrify her daughter, she headed back out into the cabin.

“Mommy!” came Lizzie’s voice from the staircase. A moment later her daughter had tackled into her, hugging her tightly about the waist. “I was worried about you!”

“Oh, honey,” Belle exclaimed, picking her daughter up and holding her tightly, breathing in the sweet scent of her hair. “I’m just fine. We’re safe here, okay?”

Lizzie nodded against her shoulder. “Mr. Dove is really nice,” she said. “He made homemade pizza for dinner.”

“That’s wonderful, baby,” Belle said, setting her daughter down and looking over her, drinking her in like a dying woman. She was here, safe and whole. Her daughter was fine. Liam had upheld that promise at least. She wasn’t sure where Liam had disappeared to but he wasn’t in the living area of the cabin. Perhaps he was making himself scarce, worried how Lizzie would react to his presence after the other night.

She pulled Lizzie into her embrace once more, hugging her to her chest.

“I love you so much, sweetie,” she cooed into her daughter’s hair.

“I love you too, Mom,” came Lizzie’s muffled reply.

* * *

She got Lizzie settled in one of the bedrooms upstairs, laying beside her until the little girl drifted off to sleep. Then she sat there watching the gentle rise and fall of her daughter’s chest for what felt like ages, the movement comforting her. She was safe now, she reminded herself. Liam had protected them. No matter what had happened in the past with Milah, she could acknowledge that. Jones was gone and Lizzie was safe.

There was a gentle knock on the open door and Liam’s head peeked in from the hallway.

“How is she?” he asked, concern etched on his face as Belle joined him in the hall, closing the door softly behind her.

“She’s fine now,” she said, crossing her arms against her chest as a sort of armor from this conversation. “She was afraid, but she’s a resilient little thing.”

“Just like her mother,” he replied with a small smile, just a twitch of his lips the kind she once found so endearing.

“Don’t,” she pleaded, stepping around Liam and heading down the stairs back to the living room.

The sound of Liam’s cane scuffing along the stairs told her he was following her and for once she was glad. He had promised to tell her everything and now was the time. No more secrets or lies. His deceptions had almost gotten her killed.

“So what happened with Milah?” she demanded, seating herself on the sofa and pulling an afghan from the back to wrap around herself. She spared a moment to wonder at their accommodations, how it looked almost exactly as she remembered it, clean and well cared for. Had Liam kept it up all this time? Had he visited this cabin in the intervening nine years, only hours away from her? Had he come here alone?

Liam took the chair opposite the sofa, giving her space, and leaned forward with his elbows against his knees. The fireplace cast golden light on him, picking up the strands of grey in his dark hair and giving his skin a warm glow.

“Belle,” he began shaking his head. He would do anything to get around telling her the truth and Belle had to suppress rolling her eyes.

“No,” she said flatly. “After everything I went through today, I deserve answers. You owe me that much.”

He stared at her for a long moment, his face a tableau of conflicting emotions, fear and anger and something softer. Something she’d seen in his eyes before, years ago.

“Milah and I never had a happy marriage as you well know,” he started haltingly, eyes downcast and hands clasped together nervously. “She was always looking for something more, something I couldn’t give her. Eventually she went looking for it elsewhere and we split up. After a string of relationships she finally found it in Killian Jones. Where I had offered stability, he offered adventure and Milah ate it up. Jones was an enforcer for Peter Zorza.”

He finally looked up at Belle, searching for recognition in her eyes.

“The business magnate?” Belle asked. She didn’t know much about the man other than that he owned large chunk of the shipping business in the state. “You mentioned his name to Jones. You thought he was still working for him.”

“The mob boss is more apt,” Liam all but spat. “The man has had a hand in all organized crime within the city for the past three decades. But he’s insulated by a network of lackeys who he’s very careful to have no direct ties to. He pulls the strings and they dance. They also take the fall for his crimes.”

“He’s the one who ordered the hit on you,” Belle said, the story becoming clearer in her head. “The one Milah carried out.”

Liam nodded, his eyes flicking back down to his clasped hands. “I don’t know exactly how or why Milah got involved. I can only assume being tied to a dangerous man wasn’t enough for her anymore and she wanted to experience the thrill first hand. She hated me. I wasn’t a good husband to her, but I did try to make her happy. I don’t know why she was venomous enough to kill. Perhaps she thought Bae would inherit my money and she could hold it in trust.”

“What exactly happened that night?” Belle asked, wanting to know and never wanting to hear of it at the same time. It was the night her world had collapsed. The night her sun had gone out.

“Milah didn’t know Bae was with me,” he said, shaking his head. “It was Halloween and he was supposed to be at a party with his soccer team. But he’d had a scuffle with one of the other boys and I’d picked him up early. We were going to see some terrible scary movie instead; I don’t even remember which one. Bailey was excited about it though. He always loved horror films.”

Liam took a long shaky breath, meeting Belle’s eyes again. There was the sheen of unshed tears reflected in the firelight and she held her breath for the next part of his story.  

“We didn’t make it to the theater,” he said, his voice wavering. “The car had been tampered with, my brakes were faulty, a fuel line cut to make sure it caught fire if we crashed. I couldn’t stop the car and…”

His voice trailed off as Liam swallowed down the tears.

“Well, you know the rest,” he said thickly. “There was a crash, an explosion, no survivors.” 

Belle could feel the tears sliding down her cheeks silently. Bailey had been such a wonderful child, the absolute apple of his father’s eye. Her heart broke for Liam, for what Milah had done. There were no winners in this story, no heroes, just a terrible sequence of events that led to a young boy’s death.

“Dove had been in the car behind us,” he continued. “I’d asked him to follow as extra security. I had another man stationed outside your apartment that whole fall. Dove managed to pull me to safety but Bailey…he was already gone.” 

The tears Liam had been holding back began to fall at that, his shoulders shaking silently as he buried his face in his hands. Belle couldn’t help herself. She crossed the living room, kneeling in front of him and placing a comforting hand on his forearm.

“I’m so sorry, Liam,” she said thickly through her own tears. She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him to her. He buried his face in her hair, her neck growing slick with his tears. She wondered when the last time someone had held him was, the last time he’d had a positive human interaction. He was shaking in her arms, gasping for breath as she smoothed her hand down the sharp contours of his back.

He smelled the same, she realized. The same scent that had long since evaporated from the burgundy dress shirt she still had folded in a drawer in her bedroom. The one she thought she’d never encounter again no matter how many times she buried her nose into the increasingly threadbare fabric. She let her eyes slip shut, allowing it to comfort her as she comforted him.

At long last he pulled away, looking shaken and ashamed.

“I’m sorry,” he rasped out, pushing himself away from her. “God, Belle, I have no right to cry on your shoulder of all people.”

“It’s okay,” she insisted. “Trust me, as a parent, I can’t even imagine the kind of pain you’ve been through.”

He just sighed, scrubbing his hands over his face. “I promised I’d tell you what happened to Milah,” he said after composing himself. Belle stayed kneeling at the side of his chair. “I knew Zorza was responsible, but I had no way to get to him, no way of making him pay for what he’d done. I had to stay dead, convince him I was gone. It was the only way I could keep you safe. I knew as long as I was alive, your life was in danger and I couldn’t lose you too, Belle. Not after everything else.”

He reached out as though to touch her face before letting his hand drop to his side again.

“Doctor Whale owed me several thousand favors so he falsified the death report. Graham had reliable contacts within the police department and everything was handled. As far as the public was concerned, I’d died in an unfortunate crash. I spent the next several years tracking down Zorza’s known associates, working out who was behind the hit. Eventually, three years ago, it led me to Milah.”

He faltered for a moment and Belle gave his knee an encouraging squeeze.

“She was in Majorca, living it up in sunny paradise while our son was buried under cold, hard earth in Massachusetts,” he spat angrily. “She swore up and down she hadn’t known Bailey would be with me. I knew that, it didn’t absolve her. And I would have let her go. I just wanted an acknowledgment. I wanted her to show guilt, some shred of maternal feeling for a boy who deserved so much better than her for a mother.”

His muscles tensed under Belle’s hand and he took a deep breath before continuing.  

“She put on a good show, but I knew she wasn’t sincere. Still, I had no wish to kill her in the end. It wouldn’t bring Bae back. But she said she’d tell Killian I was alive. She taunted me that I couldn’t even die successfully, that I hid behind my own son. And then she said the one thing she really shouldn’t have, your name. ‘Isabelle French,’ she said. I think she was going to try to extort money out of me in exchange for your safety, but I saw red, Belle. I couldn’t lose you to the same harpy who had cost me my son.

“She laughed and wondered how they would kill you to draw me out, what Zorza’s men would do…” he stopped, gasping slightly for breath. “In a moment of sheer, blind panic, I shot her. She bled out in my arms.”

The room was silent at the end of Liam’s story but for the fire crackling in the hearth and the sound of Belle’s own heartbeat in her ears.

“They would have come after us three years sooner,” Belle said flatly. “You bought us more time.”

Gold shook his head. “I should have died the night of the accident. It’s the only way you would have been safe.”

Belle started at his words, an echo of Graham’s declaration the other night.

“Don’t say that,” she chastised him. “Your death does no one any good.”

“There’s more blood on my hands than you know, Belle,” he said shaking his head. “The man I’ve had to be the past nine years, the things I’ve had to do, I don’t deserve to live. But I have to take down Zorza or you and Elizabeth will never be safe.”

Belle shook her head, unable to fathom the idea of more bloodshed. It was clear Liam regretted the things he’d done, what he’d done to Milah. She didn’t excuse his actions, but she understood them. To court more death was unthinkable.

“Jones said Zorza was the least of your problems, that Milah was in contact with someone other than him the night she died,” she recalled. “Someone else who might know about Lizzie. Do you know who he meant?”

“No,” Liam admitted, sitting back in his chair wearily. “I’m afraid it could be almost anyone in Zorza’s extensive network, or at least what’s left of it.”

Belle shook her head. “But maybe it’s not Zorza at all. He’s barely been in the news in recent years. I’ve heard his health is failing. He’s an old man, Liam, you could just outlast him.”

“That bastard is too evil to die,” Liam growled, standing from the chair and pacing in front of the fire, the tap of his cane on hard wood echoing through the room. “They don’t call him ‘The Dark One’ for nothing.”

“Why were you on his hit list in the first place?” she asked. “Was he a client? I know you had some that were less than reputable.”

“Many of his men were,” Liam admitted. “You may remember one named Sidney Glass.”

“Glass!” Belle exclaimed, recalling the old case. It had been a veritable media frenzy, the press going even more insane when the jury had handed down a verdict of not guilty. “Zorza was behind Leopold Blanchard’s murder?”

“Of course,” Liam said dryly. “And I was hand picked to defend Mr. Glass and make sure he took the fall for the crime. But I didn’t.”

“Because of me,” Belle breathed, the realization hitting her like a punch to the chest. “That’s why you weren’t pursuing those leads, that’s why you went on about getting Glass the lightest sentence possible. He was supposed to go to prison for a murder he didn’t commit.”

“It’s not your fault,” Liam said surprised. “My conscience got the better of me. And despite all the heartache that followed, I can’t regret that decision. I helped save an innocent man’s life. I hope that balances the scales in my favor somewhat.”

“When Sidney was acquitted, the police arrested someone else,” she recalled, digging back in her memory. “A Daniel Stabler who ended up committing suicide before he could face trial. Was that who Zorza was trying to protect?”

Liam just shrugged. “That was a piece I never had an answer to,” he replied. “Though I highly doubt Mr. Stabler’s death was truly suicide.”

Belle finally climbed up from her place beside the armchair, running a hand through her hair. She had wanted answers and Liam had given them in spades. And she couldn’t help the seed of guilt that had settled in her chest. That because of her, because Liam had done what she deemed the right thing, he had suffered so much loss.

Liam had stopped his pacing, leaning against the mantelpiece and staring down into the fire. At this angle, his features were thrown into sharp relief, the firelight playing across his face, chasing shadow. He wasn’t quite the man she’d known anymore, but that man wasn’t wholly gone either.

“It’s late,” she said, startling him from his reverie.

“Aye,” he agreed. “You should get some sleep.”

“So should you,” Belle insisted, stepping closer to him until she was merely an arms length away. “We need to figure out a game plan, what our next move is.”

“We?” Liam looked startled at the pronoun.

“Of course,” Belle said with a little shrug. “This is both of our problem, it makes sense that we work on a solution together. A solution without more bloodshed,” she added as clarification.

Liam shook his head, “Belle, you don’t understand how these people operate. It’s far too dangerous. I won’t involve you.”

She looked up at him, eyes flashing. “You took away my choice in the matter nine years ago,” she said, holding up a hand to stop his protests. “I know you did what you thought was best for me, but you’re not cutting me out again. We do this together.”

Liam looked dumbfounded, staring at her as though she were something otherworldly. It was a look she’d seen on his face many times before and it caused a little fluttering in her stomach that was hard to ignore.

“These people only respond to violence, Belle,” he said softly.

“It’s not them I’m worried about,” she countered, reaching up to cup his cheek. Liam’s eyes slid shut at the motion, leaning into her hand almost unconsciously. “The man I love is still in there. Don’t snuff him out completely.”

She let her hand drop back to her side, turning to head upstairs. She had to wash this day off of her. She had to sort her conflicted feelings. She had to face the fact that she still loved the man behind her so much she could feel it fluttering in her chest like a caged bird ready to burst through at any moment. And that thought frightened her more than any crime lord ever could.

* * *

Killian Jones awoke to a foggy head and the incessant sound of beeping. He hurt everywhere, feeling as though he’d been hit by an eighteen-wheeler. His chest was tight, his throat raw. As his eyes cleared he could make out the bright lights and sterile ceiling tiles of a hospital room.

“You’re lucky to be alive,” came a voice from somewhere to his right.

He tried to whip his head to the side in the direction of the voice, but there were wires and tubes holding him in place. Suddenly a face loomed above him, a beautiful face unmarred by its years.

“Don’t try to speak,” she said maternally. “There’s a tube in your throat, you’ll only hurt yourself.”

Killian lifted a hand weakly to try to pull the breathing mask from his face only to find he was handcuffed to the bed railing.

“You’ve let me down, Killian,” she continued in a soft voice, its tenderness belying her words. “I suppose I shouldn’t have put my hopes in a henchman with a death wish, but here we are.”

His confusion must have shown in his eyes because she continued.

“That boy you murdered. He’s the type people notice when they go missing. Rich white kid from a prominent family. I’m afraid I can’t protect you from the consequences this time.”

What was she talking about? What boy? The last thing Killian remembered was the girl, the one with the blue eyes, the one that would help exact his revenge.

“You were found with the body, his blood all over you,” she continued soothingly, smoothing back his hair with one soft hand. “It appeared he was able to get off a few good shots but you were still holding the murder weapon in your hand. It doesn’t look good for you, darling.”

Killian could do little more than blink up at her, the puzzle slowly forming back together. He had killed that bumbling fool Gary Stone. Then Gold had showed up to save his little whore. He’d shot him. How was he alive? Why was he alive?

“The authorities suspect a drug deal gone bad. You know those trust fund types and well, a man with your record. We both know what really happened in that house though, don’t we?” she said, her hand in his hair growing heavier until it was pulling at the hair of his scalp. “Gold was there and you didn’t uphold your end of our bargain. I suppose you’re wondering why you’re still alive. The shot was non fatal. Now, I know Gold. If he wanted to kill you, you’d be dead. But he left you alive. Why did he do that, Killian?”

She straightened up, walking to the end of his hospital bed and staring down at him imperiously.

“That girl makes him weak,” she almost spat. “Always has. So you’re left alive and I have another mess to clean up.

“Well,” she sighed, giving an elegant little shrug. “When you want something done correctly, you have to do it yourself.”

She gave him a brilliant smile, her bright red lips parting to flash a row of perfect, white teeth.

“Enjoy prison, darling,” she said, blowing him a kiss. “Your pretty face should get you much.”

And then she sauntered out of the room, her reddish brown hair swaying behind her. 

Killian felt the cold bite of the metal cutting in to his wrist, the sharp pain in his chest where Gold’s well-aimed bullet had landed, the sinking disappointment of finding himself alive after everything. He felt it all, and none so cruelly as Cora Mills’ dismissal. 


	14. Half Agony, Half Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope. Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone for ever." - Jane Austen, "Persuasion"

_Ten Years Ago_

In the world of a defense attorney, the words “not guilty” were a beautiful thing. Especially when one’s client was found not guilty of first-degree murder. An acquittal was the best Gold could hope for. But when the jury returned the verdict, ringing out through the courtroom that the defendant, Sidney Glass, had been found not guilty of the murder of Leopold Blanchard, he felt a sense of foreboding.

He shook a smiling Sidney’s hand, exchanged pleasantries with the district attorney, received a shocking hug from Mal, and headed out to face the press.

It was only after he’d made his way to his car, fumbling with his keys in the parking garage, that the foreboding feeling showed its face.

“That was quite impressive,” came a cool voice from behind him. Gold froze, ice running down his spine at the words.

“Thank you, Mr. Zorza,” he replied, not turning around. “Justice was served, a banner day for the legal system and all that.”

The man behind him chuckled, growing closer.

“Always so sarcastic,” he said, reaching the car and leaning against it. Gold glanced up at the man finally. Older, overweight, harmless one would think. But Gold knew better than to rely on outward appearances. This man was dangerous.

“You failed to do your job, Willy,” he said coolly.

Gold blanched at the old nickname. He hated it. His father had called him that. It reminded him of a man he used to be, a man he’d almost been forced to be again.

“I think you’ll find I performed my job admirably,” Gold snarked back. “I provided reasonable doubt. It was District Attorney Spencer who failed to prove my client’s guilt.”

Zorza chuckled again, the sound far from jovial. “Spencer has some things to answer for as well in this debacle.”

“And what do I have to answer for?” Gold growled, his voice low and dangerous. “You sent me one of your men to defend in a murder case. I did that. I didn’t fail.”

Zorza stared at him for a long moment before letting out a sigh. “No, I don’t suppose you did at that. In fact you should be celebrating. You have people you love, care about. You should go home to them, Willy. Hold them tight.”

“Is that a threat?” he asked, his throat closing around the words as he clutched the car keys in his hand.

“Not yet,” Zorza said, backing away from Gold’s car. “Everything might work out just fine despite this cock up. But don’t make the mistake of thinking you’re the only man around with a family.”

With that cryptic warning ringing in his ears, Gold got in the car and sped away.

When he arrived home later that evening it was to find Bailey sitting at the kitchen table. His face split into a wide grin at the sight of his father.

“You’ve been on the news all day,” Bailey exclaimed. “Congratulations, Papa!”

Gold tried to smile for his son, but he knew it was strained. “Thank you, Bae,” he managed. “Why don’t I order pizza to celebrate?”

Bae just shrugged. “That’s fine. Are you alright, Papa?”

Gold tried another smile that he felt was slightly more convincing. “I just won a case,” he said, arms spread wide in triumph. “Of course I’m alright. Just tired.”

Bae still didn’t look convinced, but he turned back to his homework spread out on the table before him.

The truth was he was dwelling on Zorza’s veiled threat. He still wasn’t sure why the man had wanted Sidney Glass to be pinned for Blanchard’s murder. He supposed the true murderer was someone higher up and more valuable to Zorza’s organization. But Sidney was one of his men as well. He’d never asked Gold to purposely throw a case before, and he was suddenly terrified at what would happen now that he hadn’t held up his end of the bargain.

He watched his son from his peripherals as he rummaged through the junk drawer for the local pizza restaurant’s menu. He couldn’t let anything happen to the boy. He’d have to send him away, somewhere safe. Perhaps they could try boarding school to get him away from Boston. Bae wouldn’t like that, but at least he’d be safe.

There were only two people in this world that Gold truly loved, two weaknesses that Zorza could exploit, his son and Belle. Luckily his relationship with Belle was still far from common knowledge. He’d have to keep it that way. It shouldn’t be too hard seeing as Belle surely didn’t want it known that she was sleeping with a partner and the implications that would follow her from that. The best thing he could do for her would be to end things now so she could never be hurt. She was young. She would move on and find someone infinitely more suitable.

But Gold was a selfish man. He didn’t have it in him to cut out Belle. Even now he wanted nothing more than to hold her, to have both Belle and Bailey under his roof and his protection.

“Bae,” he said suddenly, his son glancing up from his Algebra homework. “Would you mind if I invited someone to join us for dinner tonight?”

Bae looked surprised, but nodded.

“Who?” he asked. It was a rare thing indeed for Gold to invite anyone into their home. Mal or O’Keefe came by for the occasional work related emergency, but he didn’t really have friends.

“I’ve been seeing someone,” Gold admitted haltingly.

His son’s mouth fell open at that. “What, like a woman?” Bae asked, his face screwing up with incomprehension.

Gold snorted at his son’s incredulity.

“Yes,” he agreed. “It has been known to happen.”

“No it hasn’t,” Bae said with a shake of his head. “Are you saying you have an actual, real life girlfriend?”

Gold shifted on his feet, starting to be slightly offended by his son’s unwillingness to believe any woman would go out with him. He tended to share his son’s view of things, but Belle had been slowly putting those insecurities to rest. At least she liked him.

“Yes, Bae, she’s my girlfriend,” he replied tersely. “Her name is Belle and I think you’ll like her. Do you mind if I invite her to come over?”

Bae stared at him for a long moment before shrugging again.

“Sure, invite her over. I can’t wait to see what kind of chick attracts your attention.”

Gold just rolled his eyes as he grabbed the phone from the wall, punching in Belle’s number.

“Don’t call women, _chicks_ ,” he tossed over his shoulder as Belle picked up on the other end.

An hour later there was a large pepperoni laid out on the kitchen table as Bae chortled at Belle’s gentle teasing of his father. Gold took a swig of his beer, allowing himself to enjoy the moment with the two people he loved most. He knew he would protect them at any cost, even if it meant cutting ties with Belle and sending Bae away to school. But at least he had this one moment of perfect happiness before the end.

* * *

_November 2014_

Sleep was an elusive thing at the best of times, and today had been far from the best of times.

Gold settled back against the headboard of his bed, shutting his eyes and trying to shut out the demons that plagued him. But recounting the whole sordid history to Belle had brought everything to the forefront. Every time he started to drift off he had visions of the past, of his son’s small battered body in the car seat next to him his lungs no longer drawing breath, of the feel of Milah’s blood on his hands as she breathed her last, of the look of utter resignation in Killian Jones’ eyes as he’d shot him, enough to maim but not to kill.

Belle was right. There’d been too much death. He’d seen too much destruction. He didn’t want any more. When he’d looked at Jones, he’d just felt sad. As much as the man deserved to suffer, he didn’t want to be judge, jury and executioner.

He rolled over on his side, his thoughts turning to Belle. She was so much stronger than she knew, still capable of seeing the good in him when he was fairly certain any good had been extinguished over the past nine years. And he’d been no saint prior to that.

When he’d first arrived in Boston at the age of eighteen, he’d been nothing, just some punk kid from Glasgow with no future. Zorza had changed that. Young and impressionable, Gold had allowed himself to be swept up in the lure of wealth and adventure that being a part of Zorza’s network promised. He’d always been smart, always able to manipulate those around him to bend to his will. Zorza had seen his worth and invested time in him. Money too. Undergrad and law school were all paid for, a job set up for after school.

But somewhere around his 24th year, Gold had wizened up. He met Milah who worked the coffee cart near his office building. He suddenly had a career and a woman who he thought might possibly love him. He’d had visions of family and respectability. He didn’t want to be a part of it anymore.

So he’d left. It had been remarkably easy at the time. Just a promise to extend his services as a defense attorney should one of Zorza’s men need it, and the next 15 years had passed relatively quietly. He never could have foreseen what would happen with Glass. Zorza had never asked him to purposely lose a case before. It had all been settled up. District Attorney Spencer was in on the plan. Several high-ranking police officers were in Zorza’s pocket. All Gold had to do was deliver a convincing but inadequate defense and Glass would go away for a long time.

And he hadn’t done it.

He still wasn’t sure whether it was his conscience or his ego that got the better of him. Gold didn’t like to lose, no matter what the cost.

He got up from the bed realizing sleep wasn’t coming for him tonight, and headed out into the chilly hallway. Jones was probably laid up in a hospital somewhere. Dove was downstairs keeping an eye out. But there was still the threat of the other person Jones had mentioned. He didn’t know who Milah had been in contact with prior to her death. He supposed he could track down Jones and see if he was more willing to talk now, but he never wanted to see the man again. Found as he was with Gary’s dead body he was sure he’d be going away somewhere he couldn’t hurt Belle. That was good enough for him.

“Mr. Gold,” Dove said, standing from his seat in the living room at the sight of his employer descending the stairs. He shifted his considerable bulk from foot to foot, clasping his hands behind him and standing to attention. “Is there something wrong?”

Gold just waved a hand at his old friend. “Go get some sleep, Dove,” he said making his way through the living room toward the kitchen. “God knows you need it.”

Dove didn’t protest, just nodded his acquiescence before disappearing up the stairs his steps remarkably silent for such a large man. It did no good for them both to be sleep deprived tomorrow. Gold knew he wouldn’t be sleeping so he may as well stand guard.

The kitchen was well stocked, but Gold wasn’t hungry, not with the memories currently flitting through his head causing his stomach to churn with sadness and the sick feeling that always accompanied them. He rummaged around in the back of the pantry instead finally finding what he was looking for: a dusty bottle of whisky that had probably been there since the last time he and Belle had stayed here under one roof.

He popped the top off, taking a swig directly from the bottle and letting the liquor burn down the back of his throat. He wasn’t trying to get drunk. Things were too precarious for that. But he needed something to steady the shaking of his hands, the persistence of his memory.

“Mind sharing?”

The voice startled him causing him to nearly drop the bottle. He slammed it down against the counter, coughing as he turned to the doorway.

“Belle,” he sputtered, wiping his mouth against the sleeve of his bathrobe.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she said, wrapping her arms around herself and seeming to shrink into the folds of her bathrobe. “I’m exhausted but it just wouldn’t come. Every time I close my eyes I see that knife in Gary’s throat and I…”

She trailed off, unable to finish her words.

His stomach twisted, the liquor suddenly making him nauseous. He had done this. He had ruined Belle’s life more than he ever could have feared. He’d made her mourn him for years, left her a single mother, and now he’d brought death to her very doorstep.

“The first time you experience death is hard,” he replied, glancing down at his bare feet against the wooden floorboards.

Belle looked up at him sharply. “I’ve experienced death,” she said, fire licking at her words. “My mother’s, my grandparents, _yours_. What I saw today wasn’t just death it was senseless, violent, murder.”

“I know,” he replied for lack of anything better to say. “It doesn’t get any easier to witness.”

“And what about killing?” she asked, moving toward him. “Does that get easier?”

The air was suddenly stifling despite the blizzard outside. He was boiling and he couldn’t suck in enough breath. To know what Belle thought of him now, how she finally saw the monster he tried to keep buried for so long. He was a killer and she knew.

“Never,” he gasped out.

Belle just nodded, reaching out to take the whisky bottle from where it stood before him on the counter. She took a long sip straight from the bottle as he had, wincing slightly before shoving it back toward him.

“And you say I have shit taste in whisky,” she quipped.

“It’s old,” he explained with a shrug. “I think I brought it that Fourth of July weekend we came up here. Bae was at football camp…”

“I remember,” she interrupted. “You wanted to get away from the celebrations in the city and said an Australian and a Scot had nothing to do with the holiday anyway.”

She paused for a moment, looking at him critically. “You were always trying to get me out of town that summer. Weekends here, Labor Day in Nantucket, why?”

He licked his bottom lip uncomfortably not wanting to have yet another tough conversation. A moment ago they’d been reminiscing, and now this.

“Were you taking me away from the city on purpose?” she demanded. “Did you know then what was coming? Were you trying to protect me somehow?”

There was no use trying to hide the truth. He’d attempted brutal honesty tonight and he wouldn’t back down now.

“Yes,” he agreed. “That Labor Day weekend in Nantucket…I took you away because I planned to end things.”

Belle took a step back, her body driven away by his words.

“You were going to break up with me?” she asked, a note of disbelief in her words. “All this time I mourned for you and you didn’t even want me anymore.”

“No,” Gold was quick to correct her, reaching out for her in spite of his better judgment. He gripped her upper arms, stroking them gently. “I could never not want you, Belle. I was going to end things for your benefit, because I thought you’d be safe if I was out of your life. But I wasn’t strong enough. We went out on the boat that Saturday, remember? You were so beautiful with the sea air whipping through your hair and I couldn’t do it. I loved you so much and I was so selfish that I couldn’t do it. If I had been stronger perhaps we would have avoided all of this. I could have slipped away and never hurt you.”

Belle shook her head like the weight of the world was on her shoulders. He hadn’t been strong enough to leave her then and he wasn’t strong enough now. He’d come back and here they were, in danger once again. If he’d broken her heart and skipped town back then they’d have none of their present troubles.

“We conceived Lizzie that weekend,” she said sadly. “On that stupid boat.”

His heart stuttered to a stop. If he’d managed to do the right thing, to break up with Belle that fateful weekend, Lizzie wouldn’t exist.

“I’d forgotten my birth control pills,” she explained. “I thought I could double up when I got home and everything would be fine. I didn’t even think about it again and then you…the accident happened and I lost track of everything. I was embarrassingly far along by the time I realized.

“If you’d followed through with your stupid plan to dump me for my own good, I wouldn’t have Lizzie,” she said with a shake of her head. “And no matter how much pain you’ve brought me I can never regret her.”

“Nor should you,” he replied, taking another swig from the bottle. It wasn’t doing much to settle his stomach but he had to do something with his hands, something to keep him from reaching out for Belle, to keep him from making an infinitely stupid move that would only alienate her further.

Belle grabbed the bottle from him before he could set it down, taking her own drink.

“So what do we do now?” she asked after a moment, pulling herself up on the kitchen counter and swinging her feet against the wooden cabinet doors. She was eye level with him now, her tiny, socked feet thumping rhythmically in time with his heartbeat.

“We stay here,” he said. “I’ll do my best to discern who else knew about us, who Milah might have been in contact with…”

“No,” Belle interrupted him, taking another drink from the bottle. “We said we’d come up with a plan tomorrow, together, something that doesn’t involve more bloodshed. I don’t want to talk about that now.”

“Then what are you asking?” he asked, confused.

“What do we do about us?” she said, her voice so low he would have missed it if the room hadn’t been so quiet.

“Is there an us?” he answered her question with one of his own, trying to keep the slightly hopeful tone out of his voice. He knew there was no future for them. He knew that despite the rapid beating of his heart.

“I loved you and you left me,” she said flatly, Gold trying not to flinch at her words. “I know you had your reasons, but that doesn’t change the fact that you left me, alone, for nine years. I can’t trust you now. I don’t know if I ever will be able to again.”

Gold nodded, keeping his eyes riveted on the surface of the counter in front of him and not daring to look at Belle.

“I know that, Belle,” he agreed. “As soon as you’re safe you never have to see me again.”

Belle scoffed and he looked up, meeting her eyes.

“You keep saying that like it’s some sort of resolution but it’s not,” she said, passing the whisky bottle back and forth between her hands with a sloshing sound. “You make up for leaving me by leaving again? That’s not what I want.”

“Then what do you want?” he begged both wanting and dreading her answer.

“I don’t know,” she said with a shake of her head, staring at the bottle in her hands as though it contained all the answers. “I want the Liam I knew back. I want Lizzie to have grown up knowing her father. I want you, but it’s too late now and that breaks my heart more than anything. I dreamed for years that I would wake up from this nightmare and you would be there. And when it finally happens, everything is just _worse_.”

“I’m sorry, Belle,” he began before she cut him off with a wave of her hand.

“Stop it. Stop saying you’re sorry. You’ve apologized so often in the past 48 hours that the words have lost their meaning. Make up for it.”

He wasn’t sure how to even begin making things up to her. He would do anything, grovel, crawl on his knees over glass, but what good would it do? She still wouldn’t trust him. He didn’t blame her. Trust was a fragile and beautiful thing and he smashed hers beyond repair. It would take more than a moment of coming clean to make up for years of deception.

Belle seemed to take pity on him, recognizing that he hadn’t the first idea of what to do.

“You can start with Lizzie,” she said finally. “She liked you, before she knew who you were. Now she’s afraid of you. You could have an honest conversation with her.”

He wanted nothing more than a relationship with his daughter. He only hoped it wasn’t too late, that he hadn’t abused her trust to the point where she would never forgive him.

“You’ll allow that?” he asked, fairly surprised. He was certain from their previous interactions that Belle wanted him nowhere near their daughter.

“She’s your daughter,” Belle said, taking another drink from the whisky bottle. He was starting to worry for her sobriety. Belle had never been able to hold her drink. “She deserves the chance to get to know you.”

He managed a small smile at that, but there was still something holding him back, something that had him worried about more than Lizzie’s rejection or Belle’s unwillingness to allow him in his daughter’s life.

“I’m afraid,” he admitted. “It’s my fault that Bailey died. I failed one child and I’m afraid I’ll do it again.”

“The one way you will surely have failed our daughter is to cut and run again. She’s gone eight years without a father, to deprive her of one for the rest of her life just because you’re afraid would be despicable.”

He had nothing to say to that, other than that Belle was right. Leaving wouldn’t do them any good. It was the coward’s way out and one that would only make them all miserable. Even if there was no hope of ever salvaging a relationship with Belle, he had to stick around for their daughter. It made his stomach flip with both excitement and sheer terror. He longed to be Lizzie’s father, but he knew she deserved so much better.

Belle stifled a yawn behind her hand, finally setting the whisky bottle down.

“Maybe now I’ll be able to sleep,” she said with a pointed look at the bottle, her words slurring together slightly.

It was a dangerous method, self-medicating to keep the nightmares at bay. Gold knew only too well the slippery slope that led down. He wouldn’t see the same happen to Belle.

“You remember what used to work to put me to sleep?” she continued, a small smirk quirking her lips as her hand reached out to pull him toward her.

Gold stumbled a bit landing against the counter with hands braced on either side of Belle’s hips. She parted her legs, pulling him to stand between them and the kitchen seemed to shrink around them until it was suffocating, just he and Belle standing far too close.

He could well remember. The feel of her body against his, the heat between them, the rapid rise and fall of her chest after he’d sated her. She’d fall right asleep, her head on his chest as he lay there wondering how he’d ever managed to get quite so lucky.

Her hand snaked up his arm to catch the hair at the nape of his neck, her nails scratching against his scalp in that way he used to love. His eyes slipped closed and suddenly it’s as though the past nine years had never happened. They’re just back at the cabin one rainy fall weekend, escaping work and the city and just enjoying being together.

His hands slid up her thighs, under the thick robe she has wrapped around herself. Her skin is still so soft and warm beneath the plush fabric and he feels her shudder slightly beneath his touch.

Her hand moved from his hair down to cup his cheek, stroking along his jaw and Gold risked opening his eyes again to see her looking at him with wide blue eyes, lips parted. In a moment of sheer madness he leaned in to her, wrapping his arms around her waist and catching those lips with his own.

Belle moaned against his mouth, her lips parting for him instantly, wrapping around his bottom lip and sucking until his legs felt like jelly and his bad ankle might give out at any second. His hands had a mind of their own, stroking up and down her back before settling on her hips and pulling her as close to him as he was able.

It had been too long, years, a lifetime since he’d held her and despite the voices screaming in the back of his head that she would regret this in the morning, that she would hate him even more, he couldn’t stop kissing her.

He trailed kisses down her throat, latching on to the place behind her ear that always left her trembling.

“Liam,” she moaned, her hands twining into his hair once more. He was hard in his pajama pants. It would take so little to send him over the edge. It had been so long. She wrapped her legs around his waist, grinding herself against his hardness and he suddenly came back to himself.

Belle had been drinking. She was upset. She’d had the most trying day a person could have. She didn’t actually want him, that he knew for certain. She would wake tomorrow morning filled with regret and burning with hatred for his taking advantage of her.

He pulled away to find her looking at him calculatingly, her eyes clearer than he would have thought.

“Belle,” he panted out sadly. “We can’t do this.”

She bit her lip, considering his words for a moment.

“What if I were to tell you that it doesn’t change anything, that it means nothing, would you…”

“I’d say I don’t want it to mean nothing,” he interrupted, staring down at his hands still gripping her hips.

Belle’s hand dropped from his hair, pushing him away by his shoulders as she slid off the counter.  

“For the best,” she agreed with a stiff nod. “Goodnight again, Liam.”

She tightened the belt of her bathrobe, giving him one last look that he couldn’t discern before leaving him standing in the kitchen with an erection and a heart he’d long thought dead thumping painfully in his chest.

* * *

 

No one would answer his calls.

Graham had rushed out on his date with Emma the night Gold decided to unceremoniously rise from the dead and he was fairly certain she hadn’t forgiven him. He didn’t expect Belle to answer his calls. She’d all but told him to drop dead when he’d said she’d be better off if Gold had died all those years ago. Perhaps he’d been harsh, but Belle needed to hear it. She’d let that man screw with her enough for one lifetime and even now he still had a hold on her.

Once upon a time he’d thought they made a good match. Back in the days before he knew what Gold was capable of, when he was just some rich, egocentric bastard, he thought Belle brought out the best in him. He would have almost called Gold a friend as much as the man had friends.

But then he became an employee. And now his friendship with Belle had suffered for it.

It had been three days since he’d spoken to Belle, the longest they’d gone without contact since she and Lizzie had caught a bad bout of the flu three years ago and refused him admittance to their home until they’d recovered.

He had no one to blame but himself. He should have come clean with Belle years ago. He shouldn’t have kept Gold’s secret. He should have told her he was alive. But he’d thought she was better off not knowing, of having her memories of the man unblemished. He never expected to have to face the consequences of lying to her for all these years.

And he’d needed Gold’s money, as loath as he was to admit it.

He walked through the front doors of the Sisters of Saint Melissa’s Psychiatry wing, signing it at the front desk before making his way to the long-term patient sitting area.

He spotted Jeff at once, seated apart from the other patients and fiddling with a hat, another one of his outlandish creations.

“Hey, buddy,” he said, taking a seat at the table with his brother. “How’ve you been?”

Jefferson looked up at him with clear eyes, a miracle compared to how he’d been when he was first admitted. He’d gone from borderline catatonia to being able to make eye contact, acknowledging people when they’d speak to him. He still didn’t respond much and he spent more time making hats than engaging with the world around him, but it was progress.

Slow progress, but progress nonetheless, and impossible without Gold’s financial help.

“Watch anything interesting on the telly?” Graham asked, motioning at the large TV set in the corner around which many of the residents were gathered.

Jefferson shook his head, turning his attention back to hat he was stitching.

“That one looks nice,” Graham said. “Is that a derby or a bowler? I never know if there’s a difference.”

“There’s not,” Jefferson said, his eyes still riveted on the hat in his hands.

“That’ll explain it then,” Graham sighed, sitting back in the creaky plastic chair.

He seemed to have exhausted all potential avenues of conversation, so he turned to the TV which had a local news report.

“Shoot Out in Abandoned House” the headline splashed across the bottom of the screen proclaimed. The volume was muted, but a moment later a photograph of Gary Stone took the place of the news anchor’s coiffed hair and bright white smile.

Graham leapt up from his seat, striding across the room so he could read the closed captioning.

_The victim was identified as 35-year-old Gary Stone,_ Graham read. _He was declared dead at the scene. 38-year-old Killian Jones was also found at the scene and was listed as in critical but stable condition. Authorities are still unsure what caused the firefight, but we’ll keep you updated as we learn more on this story._

Graham wheeled around, rushing back to his brother.

“Listen, Jeff, something big has come up and I’ve got to go. But I’ll see you next week, yeah?”

Jefferson looked up at him, his eyes sharp.

“Be careful,” he said ominously before turning back to the bowler in his hands.

Graham simply nodded before heading back out to the parking lot and punching in a number in his phone that he’d hoped never to need again.

“Where are Belle and Lizzie,” he growled into the receiver. “And what the hell have you done?”

* * *

 

 


	15. An Earlier Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Dare not say that a man forgets sooner than woman, that his love has an earlier death. I have loved none but you. Unjust I may have been, weak and resentful I have been, but never inconstant." - Jane Austen, "Persuasion"

_Ten Years Ago_

“Congratulations, Beautiful.”

The words were growled against her ear, sending pleasurable little shivers up and down her spine as Gold moved past her in the break room, his hand coming briefly to rest on her shoulder. It was the single most contact he’d allowed between them in front of the rest of the firm and Belle felt as though things were shifting subtly. Soon she wouldn’t be his employee, she would leave Midas & Gold to spread her wings elsewhere. They could come clean about their relationship when he was no longer instrumental in her career’s future. But soon he’d moved away, going to lean against the counter with his arms crossed and a small smirk on his lips.

There was a large sheet cake laid out on one of the round tables of the break room, “Congratulations, Belle!” emblazoned across it in blue icing.

“Summa Cum Laude,” Mal said, placing an arm around her protégé’s shoulders. “I’m very proud, Belle.”

“Thanks, Mal,” Belle replied, feeling a bit self-conscious about the attention she was receiving. She was graduating from law school. It was a big deal. But all she really wanted was to go have a private celebration with her friends. Having the entire criminal law division of Midas & Gold staring at her was slightly overwhelming.

“As you all know,” Mal announced loudly to the assembled staff, “Our own Belle French is graduating with the highest honors from Boston University School of Law.

“As proud as we all are of her, she’s also leaving us,” Mal continued, giving Belle a pouty face. “For an extremely prestigious judicial clerkship. Belle, we couldn’t part with you for anything less.”

Belle smiled as everyone congratulated her once again before collectively digging in to her cake. With the rest of the office distracted by free sweets, she took the opportunity to slip out of the room. She was meeting Ruby and Graham for a celebratory lunch and then spending the evening curled up on the sofa with Liam, Bae and the original Star Wars trilogy.

But when she arrived at Liam’s that night with the remnants of her congratulatory cake, the place was mysteriously quiet.

“We have the apartment to ourselves,” Liam said with a grin leading her into the kitchen. “If you’re so inclined, feel free to stay the night.”

That was odd. She was fairly certain it wasn’t one of Bae’s weekends to stay with his mum. She never slept over when Bae was there and hadn’t packed a bag or anything.

She plopped the cake down on the center island wondering why she’d bothered to lug the thing across town if Bailey wasn’t here to enjoy it. Flipping open the box she trailed a finger through the blue icing spelling out her name.

“Where’s Bailey?” she asked, sucking the frosting off her finger.

Liam shuffled away from the cake and the island counter.

“Bailey isn’t exactly speaking to me at the moment,” he said stiffly, looking down at the shiny tips of his shoes.

“What?” Belle couldn’t help her surprise. If her boyfriend had a best friend, it was definitely his son. She’d never heard of them having a row before.

“I made the unforgiveable mistake of trying to enroll him in boarding school,” Liam replied, suddenly looking tired. “He didn’t take to the idea.”

Belle could feel her mouth drop open at Liam’s admission. She could not imagine a world in which William Gold would willingly send his child away from him.

“Was that Milah’s idea?” she had to ask.

“No,” he said with a shake of his head. “Though I doubt she’d mind missing out on her obligatory every other weekend.”

“So you, completely independent of outside influence, decided you wanted to send your only son who you adore spending time with away to boarding school?”

“Yes,” Liam answered, walking over to the liquor cabinet and pouring himself a glass of scotch.

“Where?” Belle asked.

“Switzerland.”

Belle snorted a laugh, stifling it behind her hand.

“What?” Liam asked, looking affronted.

“You were going to send Bae to Switzerland and you’re surprised he’s angry?”

Liam took a sip of scotch, shaking his head. “Not surprised, no. But I thought he might enjoy a bit of travel, getting to see the world.”

“Uprooting a high school freshman and sending him halfway across the world is a terrible idea,” she continued.

“Yes, I realize that now,” Liam shot back irritably.

Belle just rolled her eyes at her boyfriend’s foul mood. “So what possessed you to even propose it? Why would you want to send Bae away?”

Liam looked up at her sadly, his eyes unsure.

“Belle,” he began, then paused. “I…I thought it might be good for him,” he finished lamely.

He’d clearly changed his mind about what he wanted to say. She could hear it the resigned tone of his voice, the fact that the man she knew would never willingly send his beloved son so far away.

“What aren’t you telling me?” she asked shrewdly, walking toward him to place a hand on his arm. “What are you hiding?”

He set his glass back down on the bar, dropping his hand to Belle’s waist and pulling her toward him.

“Nothing,” he sighed, burying his face against the top of her head and breathing her in.

She pushed away from him with a hand against his chest, trying to meet his eyes.

“Liam,” she said sternly. “Honesty.”

The way he was looking at her was almost frightening. As though he were trying to drink her in, memorize every detail about her face. Belle felt her stomach tighten uncomfortably. Something wasn’t right. Something in Liam’s eyes seemed to break and he looked away from her, staring over her shoulder.

“I had a terrible relationship with my father,” he began hesitantly. “I adored him when I was a boy, but as I grew older I realized what a fraud he really was. How any affection he felt for me was fleeting at best. I don’t want to fail Bailey the same way my father did me.”

Belle blinked at him. Liam had never mentioned his father before, never spoken much about his own childhood at all.

“You’re afraid of becoming your father,” she said, the truth dawning on her. “That’s absurd.”

Liam looked at her sharply.

“You’re the best father I know,” she continued. “You adore Bailey and he loves you just as much. I can’t imagine you ever doing anything to hurt him.”

Liam’s eyes softened as he pulled Belle toward him again, wrapping his arms around her.

“How do you have such faith in me?” he asked, his words muffled against her shoulder.

“Because you’re a good man, Liam Gold,” she sighed contentedly running her hands over the planes of his back. “Even if you don’t believe it. I’ll believe it enough for both of us.”

“I love you,” he said with conviction, as though it was the most important thing he could possibly say. “I love you so much, Belle. Please never doubt that.”

There were tears in Liam’s eyes when she pulled back to gaze up at him, gently pushing his hair out of his face. She wasn’t sure what inner turmoil Liam was experiencing right now, whether it was just his uncertainty about his relationship with Bae or if it went deeper. But here he was with his insecurities laid bare before her, pleading for her to accept his love but never expecting it in return.

“I love you too,” she said with the complete certainty of youth. “Always will.”

* * *

 

_November 2014_

The next morning dawned bright and early. The snowfall of the night before had left the cabin shrouded in white, the morning sun reflecting off the icicles on tree branches and making them sparkle like diamonds. Everything was pure and fresh and despite the events of the past few days, Belle couldn’t help the sense of optimism that accompanied a fresh snow.

She had a slight headache behind her eyes, a product of too many swigs of the whisky bottle the night before. But after the day she’d had, Belle thought she more than deserved the slight indulgence. She hadn’t been drunk, not truly. She remembered everything that had transpired. She’d been teasing Liam, mostly. Attempting to see if she still had an effect on him based off some sort of vapid need for validation.

Well, she still had an effect. She wasn’t sure what to do with that information now that she had it. She expected to feel some slight bit of guilt, but was surprised that she didn’t. There was only so much a person could be expected to handle before they started acting out. If she wanted to drink and flirt with her dead boyfriend, so be it.

She splashed some water on her face in the hall bathroom before heading downstairs only to find Lizzie already there, seated at the kitchen island while Liam stood over the stove. She stopped right outside the entrance to the kitchen trying to hear their conversation.

“Then why didn’t you tell me you were my dad?” Lizzie asked the direct question. “Why did you say you knew him?”

“Ah,” Liam said, flipping a pancake on the skillet. “That wasn’t technically a lie. I did know him, better than anyone I’d daresay.”

Belle could imagine the unamused look on her daughter’s face at that bit of sidestepping.

“That’s still lying,” her daughter said grumpily. “You made it sound like he was a different person.”

“Well, I wanted to meet you,” Liam said. “And I thought you might be afraid if I came right out and told you who I was. You’d always believed I was dead. I was just trying to get you used to me before I dropped that particular bombshell.”

There was silence for a moment as Liam expertly stacked pancakes onto a plate, adding butter and syrup before dropping them down in front of Lizzie. The little girl looked at them skeptically for a moment before her hunger won out and she picked up her fork, digging in.

“Mom never talks about you,” she said through a mouthful of pancake. “And when I would ask about you she’d just get sad. I always thought it was because she loved you so much but now she just seems mad that you’re back.”

Belle thought she could see Liam’s shoulders tense at her daughter’s words.

“Well, your mother has every right to be mad at me,” he conceded, busying himself with pouring orange juice. “I lied to her and that’s not something that’s easily forgiven.”

“Why did you lie?”

“Because I wanted to protect you,” Liam said sadly, turning to set the juice down in front of their daughter. “I thought I was doing the right thing, but clearly I messed up. I missed out on so much of your life because I stupidly thought I knew what was best. I’m sorry for that, Elizabeth.”

Lizzie shrugged, her thin little shoulders bobbing up and down beneath her flannel pajama set.

“You didn’t miss much,” she said snappily. “I’ve never even been to Disney World.”

Liam looked a bit bemused by the change in conversation, staring at their daughter oddly.

“Perhaps I could take you one day.”

Lizzie’s fork clattered to the island counter, ringing loudly through the kitchen. Liam must have realized he’d overstepped because he was quick to continue.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me for lying to you, but could we maybe try to be friends? I would so love to spend more time with you.”

“Maybe,” Lizzie conceded, picking her fork up and taking another bite of her pancakes. “But don’t make my mom cry again.”

Belle took that as her cue to make her presence known and shuffled into the kitchen.

“Good morning,” she said, dropping a kiss to her daughter’s curly head. “Liam,” she added, nodding politely.

He was staring at her as though she might attack him at any moment, a spatula held in one hand as if it could ward her off. He presented such a ridiculous picture with a flowered apron tied over his three-piece suit that she couldn’t suppress a little laugh, the feeling of optimism she’d awoken with bubbling up through her. Perhaps she’d suffered some kind of psychotic break.

She thought she could see a little blush spreading over Liam’s sharp cheekbones and it made her temper her laugh. She was sure he was still reeling over what had transpired between them here last night. She shouldn’t antagonize him over it, much as he deserved it.

“Are you making pancakes?” she prompted, motioning at the hot griddle to Liam’s back.

“Yes,” he said, coming back to himself and turning to look at the stove. “Would you like some?”

“That would be lovely,” she replied, taking the stool next to her daughter who was eyeing her curiously.

Liam busied himself with her breakfast while Lizzie’s eyes darted back and forth between her parents.

“What happened?” she asked suddenly.

“What do you mean?” Belle returned as Liam quickly placed a steaming cup of coffee in front of her before returning to the pancakes. She glanced down to see that it was the perfect shade of café au lait. A quick sip told her he’d sweetened it just enough as well. He remembered how she took her coffee and something inside her melted ever so slightly at the gesture.

“Last time you guys talked to each other it was all shouting and bad words,” Lizzie reasoned and Belle ducked her head at the confirmation that her daughter had overheard their earlier argument at the house. “Now you’re being nice. Something must have happened.”

“We’ve come to an understanding,” Belle told her daughter, taking a fortifying sip of her coffee.

“We have?” Liam wheeled around looking surprised. “We have,” he said a bit more decisively at Lizzie’s raised eyebrows.

“We’re going to stay here for a few days with Liam,” Belle continued. “And once we go back to Boston, he’s going to come see us on occasion.”

Lizzie was still looking at her mother skeptically.

“But you don’t like him,” she said with no effort at tact. Liam snorted from over at the stove, covering it by turning to place Belle’s pancakes on a plate.

“It’s a bit more complicated than that, baby,” Belle replied, her eyes meeting Liam’s as he placed her pancakes in front of her.

There was a glimmer of something in them, something like hope. Belle couldn’t find it in her to take it away. She didn’t want to hurt him, she realized. As mistreated as she felt by his lies, he’d thought he was doing the right thing. She could acknowledge that now. She’d almost died yesterday and that was exactly what Liam had been trying to protect her from for the past nine years. He’d gone about it wrong, but perhaps there was a part of him that loved her despite the years and deceptions. Her heart fluttered a bit at that and she ripped her gaze away from his, looking back at their daughter.

“You guys are weird,” Lizzie announced, earning another snort from Liam.

That morning was one of the more pleasant of Belle’s life. She could almost pretend this was how it had always been, that Liam had never left and they were a proper family sharing pancakes on a Sunday morning. After breakfast, Belle sat on the front porch of the cabin as Liam oversaw Lizzie building a snowman, chipping in with tips every once in a while that were mostly ignored. By the time they were done, both father and child were a soggy, freezing mess and Belle ushered Lizzie inside to get warm.

After a helping of Dove’s homemade tomato soup for lunch, Belle sent Lizzie upstairs to do her homework. Hiding out from hit men who wanted them dead was no reason for her daughter’s grades to slip after all. Lizzie grumbled and complained the whole way but soon she was ensconced in her room with a math practice test. After Lizzie’s homework was complete, she came back downstairs for dinner, more soup and grilled cheese expertly prepared by Liam. After dinner found them seated around the coffee table for board games, a cup of hot cocoa in Lizzie’s hand and a glass of wine for the adults.

Liam proved to be just as good at scrabble as Belle remembered, though she was better. Then she sat back watching Liam let Lizzie beat him in checkers for a few rounds before ushering the little girl back upstairs to brush her teeth and get ready for bed.

It had been a nearly perfect day, almost like a vacation in the midst of all the madness. Belle knew it couldn’t last forever, that this peace was temporary. But part of her wished it could all be real. They way Liam looked at their daughter, that slight look of a surprise that he was actually happy, had her heart melting more than anything else possibly could. No matter what happened, she knew she couldn’t keep him from his daughter. They both deserved a chance to get to know each other and if today was any indication, they were well on their way.

“Mommy,” Lizzie called to her mother after Belle had tucked her in for the night.

“Yeah sweetheart?” she asked, pausing in the doorway.

“I don’t want you to hate Liam either,” she said sleepily, her little eyes growing heavy.

Belle bit her lip. She didn’t want to hate Liam either. She didn’t really think it was possible anyway.

She made her way back downstairs to find Liam seated in front of the fireplace, his bad leg stretched out toward the warmth of the hearth. His head was leaned back against the chair, his eyes shut and a pained look on his face.

“Does it hurt?” she asked. Liam sat up quickly, the motion making him wince.

“The cold doesn’t help things,” he replied, looking down at his ankle in disgust. “But it was certainly worth it.”

Belle couldn’t help her smile. Seeing Lizzie get to interact with her father after all these years was like a dream come true. No matter how she felt, her daughter deserved that. Liam had been a truly excellent father to Bae no matter how he thought he had failed him in the end.

“I sent Dove out earlier to follow up on some leads,” he stated, reaching down beside him to pull out a folder Belle hadn’t noticed before. He spread it open on the coffee table, motioning for Belle to sit down in the chair next to him. “There are a few of Zorza’s old contacts still milling about that might know something about the details of Blanchard’s murder. I never really gave much thought to why Zorza wanted Glass pinned for the crime, perhaps he just wanted the man out of the way. It was the least of my worries over the past decade. But it might be useful to us now.”

“Someone killed Blanchard,” Belle stated. “If we could figure out who, perhaps we’d have an idea of who else might want to punish you.”

“Yes, exactly,” Liam said with a smile. He flipped through the contents of his folder, pulling out a mug shot of a handsome young man with sandy brown hair.

“This is Daniel Stabler, the man who was arrested for the murder after Glass’ acquittal,” he told Belle. “He had no real connection to Glass other than that they’d both been employed by the Hart Foundation in the past, but their time there didn’t even overlap. Sidney left the company a full year before Stabler began working there.”

A piece of the puzzle slid into place in Belle’s mind and she gasped aloud.

“What?” Liam asked, looking startled.

“The Hart Foundation,” Belle said excitedly, as something finally made sense in this mess of information. “The charity founded by Henry Mills, based out of New York?”

“Yes,” Liam answered. “It’s a large charity with a nationwide presence. Glass and Stabler didn’t even work in the same office. Stabler was in the Boston branch.”

Belle just shook her head before spitting out one name.

“Regina,” she said decisively. “Other than Granny, Ruby and Graham, she’s the only one who knew about us. Now we realize that both Stabler and Glass were employed by her father’s charity? That can’t be a coincidence.”

“Regina Mills knew about us?” Liam asked, comprehension dawning on his features.

Belle nodded. “She was in Boston last week and stopped by my office. She saw a picture of Elizabeth and mentioned how much she looked like you. She said she’d known all along but had kept our secret.”

“Why would she have done that?” he asked, confused. “She couldn’t stand me and I don’t think she was overly fond of you either. A woman with that kind of competitive streak would have used that against you.”

Belle just shrugged. “That’s what I would have thought as well, but she told me she had lost someone she loved and when it came down to it, she couldn’t break us apart.”

She glanced down at the photo of Daniel Stabler again. Regina had gone to Harvard, not far from where Daniel worked in the Boston branch of the Hart Foundation. It was entirely possible…

“What do you know about him?” she asked, pushing the mug shot toward Liam.

He just shrugged, picking the photograph up and staring at it as though he could divine the dead man’s secrets.

“There wasn’t much to know, just a kid from Boston trying to make good. By all accounts he was a decent man, well liked, despite growing up in one of the rougher neighborhoods he’d never been in any trouble.”

Liam stopped, scrubbing a hand over his eyes before leafing through a few more pages in the file.

“There was CCTV footage of him walking away from Blanchard’s building the night of the murder,” he said, pulling out a grainy black and white photograph for Belle’s perusal. “A witness came forward and claimed he’d overheard Stabler bragging about the murder in a bar the following evening. There were enough witnesses to verify that he had been at that bar. It snowballed on him with a police force and a District Attorney eager to wrap up the case. He was arrested after a gun registered to him was found in a dumpster outside Blanchard’s apartment building. An odd thing to find months after the fact.”

“And he committed suicide only days after his arrest,” Belle finished the story.

“So the police records say,” Liam snarled. “But I highly doubt a man with no history of mental illness who was, by all accounts, perfectly cooperative with police and had barely enough to make a case against him would suddenly decide to end his young life.”

“So Stabler is arrested and murdered in prison,” Belle stated the facts simply. “Why? To keep him from talking about the real murderer? And if this was Regina’s lost love and all of this is some elaborate plan to get back at you for his death, why didn’t she enact revenge sooner? She’s known about us from the beginning. And why would she be in contact with Milah of all people?”

“You don’t think Regina has something to do with this after all?” Liam asked, raising an eyebrow.

Belle shook her head. “She knew about us, but she seemed genuinely sorry that you were dead. We talked about being single mothers and losing the people we loved. When I spoke to her the other day, that wasn’t a woman looking for revenge, it was a woman looking for a second chance.”

Liam watched her for a moment before nodding.

“Well,” he said, pushing the file away and standing with a grimace. “If Regina knows, she’s certainly not the only one.”

“Who else do you mean?” Belle asked, looking up at him as he stood before the fire.

“Cora.”

He growled the name out like a curse, like something utterly distasteful.

“Regina’s mother,” she stated. “Your ex girlfriend.”

Liam looked over his shoulder at Belle, an eyebrow rising at her tone.

“In a manner of speaking, yes.”

Belle couldn’t help the breathless little laugh that escaped her. She well remembered Cora, though they’d crossed paths only once. She had felt intimidated by the woman at the time, cowed by her beauty and reputation not to mention her history with Liam. But time had healed those wounds. The woman was a semi retired attorney and former beauty queen. What danger did she really pose?

“You think your ex girlfriend teamed up with your ex wife to try to kill you?” Belle asked skeptically. “Surprised they didn’t recruit me.”

Liam looked at her critically. “Don’t joke,” he said, leaning a hand against the mantle and propping his cane against the hearth. “You were the very piece they needed to get to me. I wasn’t careful enough with you, I exposed you to all of this. Elizabeth too, as I’m sure Jones didn’t keep that information a secret.”

Belle shook her head. “You couldn’t have foreseen any of this.”

Liam banged a fist against the mantelpiece, rattling the clock there and sending a brass figurine crashing to the ground. Belle started at the loud noise, her eyes growing wide at Liam’s reaction.

“Milah told someone else I was alive,” he said frantically. “According to Jones it wasn’t Zorza regardless of the fact that he put the hit on me in the first place. Jones had no reason to lie to me. He wanted to taunt me, hold something over my head. He wanted me to know that you still weren’t safe even if he was out of the way.”

“And you think that person was Cora?” Belle took a moment to review the evidence. Both Sidney and Daniel had worked for the Mills family charity. But she had no ties to Leopold Blanchard that she could remember. “Do you think she had something to do with Blanchard’s murder?”

Liam just shrugged. “I’m sure their paths crossed at some point but I don’t know why she’d have wanted him dead. And frankly, Belle, I don’t give a shit what her motivation is. If she’s the person targeting you, that’s all I need to know.”

“And then what?” Belle had to ask. “You’ll kill her? Another woman you used to love?”

Liam turned to face her, his complexion pale.

“I don’t want to,” he admitted. “Belle, I never wanted to kill anyone. I’m tired of hurting people, tired of causing pain, tired of running. I’m just so tired.”

He looked it as well, the years seeming a heavy burden laid around his shoulders.  

“But that doesn’t change the fact that I would do anything to keep you safe,” he continued, his spine stiffening from his declaration, drawing him up taller. “I will damn myself to hell a million times over if it means you can live your life in peace. I can’t bear to think of world where you don’t draw breath.”

And there it was, the heart of everything. The past nine years, the good and the bad, it had all been done for her. He’d made mistakes, terrible mistakes. He’d run when he should have had the courage to stay. But it wasn’t fear for himself that drove him away. It was fear of losing her.

Belle barely realized the tears were falling until Liam had kneeled awkwardly in front of her, his hands cupping her shoulders comfortingly.

“All of this,” she said with a shudder. “It’s all because of me. This hell you’ve been through. You did everything for me.”

“Belle,” he cut in with a shake of his head. “I –”

He didn’t get another word out because suddenly her lips were on his as the tears continued to fall. The kiss was salty and bittersweet, different from the night before that had been bound up in remembrance of days past. Now she kissed him because she couldn’t imagine a world without him either, not now that she’d been given a second chance. She couldn’t lose Liam again. She wasn’t strong enough.

She stood, pulling Liam up with her without removing her mouth from his. Their kisses were growing more desperate, his hands grabbing at her hips as hers pushed his suit jacket from his shoulders. She wanted to be wrapped up in him, enveloped in his scent and his taste. She never wanted to let him go.

Without allowing a traitorous bit of air between their bodies she maneuvered them toward the sofa, pushing Liam down against the patterned fabric and straddling his lap before seizing his lips with hers again. There was no coherent thought in her head beyond want and need. She pressed her hands against his chest, reveling in the strong heartbeat she could feel beneath her palms, in the warmth of skin she never thought to feel again. She wanted to feel all of him.

She dragged her mouth away from his with difficulty, Liam letting out a groan at the loss of her. But a moment later she latched on to his throat, kissing the exposed skin there as she tugged at his tie and worked on his buttons. Soon she had enough of his shirt open to begin kissing down his chest, feeling his pulse beneath her lips, the assurance that he was real and alive, that she wouldn’t wake from this alone in her bed back in Boston only to cry into her pillow at his loss.

Liam was hesitant at first, but after a moment his hands seemed to remember what to do, sliding down her back and cupping her rear before coming back up to pull at the hem of her sweater. She sat back to let him pull the offending garment up over her head and cast it aside. She was still clad in a thin camisole and her jeans, but Liam’s eyes raked over her like he’d never seen anything quite as exquisite. It was a look that made her heart speed up and had her grinding down against the growing hardness she could feel in Liam’s trousers.

“Stop,” he groaned, his hands gripping on to her waist and pushing her further down his lap so she was no longer in contact with that part of his anatomy.

“What?” she asked, pushing her hair out of her face, her chest heaving and breathless from kisses.

 “What are you doing?” he asked, eyes straying to her lips down to her cleavage then back up to meet her gaze. He looked completely out of his depth.

“It hasn’t been so long you’ve forgotten,” she quipped. She knew it was probably for naught. He’d stopped things the night before as well. But then she’d been drinking and she’d told him it wouldn’t mean anything. Now she wanted it to mean something, craved that meaning desperately.

“Belle,” he rasped. “It’s been a very long time.”

She paused, her hands carding through his hair. It wasn’t the reasoning she had expected from him.

“How long?” she asked, wondering if she really wanted the answer. She hadn’t been celibate these long years and she didn’t expect Liam to have been either. But it would still hurt to hear about.

“Nine years,” his simple statement rang through her head like a gong. His eyes met hers, raw and open, nothing but naked truth staring back at her.

“Nine years,” she repeated, shocked. “You never…in all that time?”

“How could I?” he asked, his hands tightening against her hips, ever so slightly pulling her back toward him. “I love you, Belle. I never stopped loving you.”

She knew the truth of his words. A man didn’t go to hell and back for someone he felt less for. But hearing the words from his lips after so many years caused something inside of her to crack, some wall that had erected around her heart over the past nine years began to crumble and vanish leaving her open and raw. It went beyond want, a need deep within her breast that called out to be sated.

She couldn’t have kept from kissing him again if she’d tried. Her hands tightened in his hair, her lips finding his once again. He loved her even after all these years. He loved her enough to leave, condemn himself to misery for almost a decade just to keep her safe. He loved her.

And she loved him, even if she wasn’t able to form the words just yet.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling herself as close to him as possible, molding herself against the hard planes of his chest. She could feel him beneath her, hot and hard through the wool fabric of his trousers and she reached a hand down to cup him, biting back a grin at how familiar this all felt.

“I’m an old man now,” Liam groaned, as if reading her thoughts. “I have an ankle that hardly functions. I’m not the man I was.”

Belle just shook her head at his words.

“And I have stretch marks and a C-section scar,” she shot back. “Neither of us are in quite the same condition.”

“You had to have a C-section?” he asked, caught up on her words, his eyes straying to her lower belly with concern as if he could see the faded little scar through her clothes.

Belle shrugged. “I’m rather small and Lizzie inherited my father’s giant head. It was a necessity.”

Liam quirked an eyebrow at her. “She does have a big head, doesn’t she?”

And suddenly the tension was broken. They were both laughing like something hysterical had happened. She pressed her forehead against his, gasping for breath as Liam’s arms tightened around her.

“Speaking of the little devil, perhaps we ought to take this somewhere more private if things are to continue.”

Belle took a deep breath, trying to suppress her giggles. Glancing around the open living room she had to concede Liam was right. If Lizzie woke up and walked down the stairs she’d be scarred by an image that would haunt her forever.

The idea that Lizzie could ever walk in on her parents in the act had been impossible only a few short days ago. It was absurd and had Belle’s giggles beginning anew. Here she was with Liam’s arms around her and her daughter asleep upstairs. Cora, Zorza or some other madman might still be after them, but for now, in this moment, Belle wanted to savor the taste of a second chance.

“Come on,” she said, scooting off of Liam’s lap and pulling him up with her. “Lets see if things really get better with age.”

 


	16. An Uninvited Guest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more." - Jane Austen, "Emma"

_Ten Years Ago_

Belle had thought balancing being a full time student and an internship was difficult, but it was nothing to full time employment. The first week of her clerkship was a blur. She’d worked hard in law school, done her best at Midas & Gold, but nothing really prepared her for the sheer amount of pressure she’d be facing in the workplace.

By the time she reached the weekend, she was completely spent and she made her way back to her and Ruby’s shared apartment in a haze. Gold was spending the weekend with Bailey and Belle didn’t want to intrude. Things had been tense between the two ever since Liam stupidly tried to send his son away to boarding school in Switzerland. Belle still wasn’t entirely sure what had possessed him to do such a thing. She was sure it was more than just fear of turning in to his own father.

Honestly, Liam’s behavior recently seemed increasingly erratic. She didn’t see him nearly as much now that they weren’t working in the same office and when they did get to spend time together, he seemed distracted. She’d almost be afraid he was planning to break up with her, but if anything he’d become more passionate in the bedroom. Every time they made love, he clung to her like it might be the last time. It was vaguely terrifying, but whenever she asked Liam what was wrong, he brushed away her concerns.

Perhaps she was just stressed, seeing things that weren’t really there. But she couldn’t help the niggling in the back of her mind that all was not well.

She didn’t manage to see Liam again until the following Wednesday and it seemed between their busy schedules they had to pencil that in like an appointment. She headed straight for his apartment after leaving her office with his promise of cooking her dinner.

When she arrived, Liam was in the kitchen standing over a pan of roasted new potatoes in his shirt sleeves and an apron. He looked domestic and adorable and for a brief moment all her worries seemed to flit away. They were in this together and if Liam had something that was bothering him, he would tell her.

“It smells delicious,” she exclaimed, dropping her bag on the kitchen island and giving him a warm smile.

“The lamb should be done in a few minutes,” Liam told her. “In the meantime would you like some wine?”

“I’d love some,” she agreed. Liam busied himself pouring her a glass of cabernet while topping off his own before crossing the kitchen to hand it to her. He clinked their glasses together before she took a sip.

“Seems like you’re cooking quite the spread,” she said. “What’s the occasion?”

Liam just shrugged. “I hadn’t seen you in a while and I know what an abysmal cook you are.” He darted away from her finger poking him in the side at his jibe.

“I’m not that bad,” she protested, though he knew was right.

“You set pasta on fire, sweetheart,” he returned and Belle blushed at the memory of the blunder. How was she supposed to know the flames from the burner would leap up and catch the ends of her angel hair pasta?

Belle took another sip of her wine to hide her face.

“Keep up that attitude and you’re sleeping alone tonight, Gold.”

Liam smirked, putting his wineglass down on the counter and wrapping his arms around her waist.

“I promise to be on my best behavior,” he promised.

Belle took another fortifying sip of her wine before placing it on the counter next to Liam’s. There was something she’d been meaning to talk to him about, but hadn’t found the time in the past few weeks. Now seemed as good a time as any to broach the subject.

“So, you’re no longer my boss, you know,” she began tentatively, sliding her arms up around his neck. She hated that she was afraid to ask him about this, afraid of what he might say.

“That is accurate,” he agreed, pulling her closer against him and nuzzling against her neck. It was easier to do this when he wasn’t actually looking at her and Belle thanked God for small favors.

“Well, I was thinking that maybe now would be a good time to go public with our relationship.”

Liam tensed, his lips stilling against her neck. A moment later he’d pulled away, looking down at her as his tongue darted out to wet his lips nervously.

“I mean, I’m not sleeping with my boss anymore,” she continued. “I have a real job. No one could say anything.”

“Yeah,” he said with an unconvincing smile. “Who would you want to tell?”

Belle shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s not like I’m gonna send out announcements. But maybe we could just stop being so secretive about things. Not tell anyone, just not hide it anymore. Actually go out in public and hold hands. Groundbreaking stuff.”

Liam heaved a sigh, dropping his hands from Belle’s waist and stepping away.

“You don’t want anyone to know,” she said resignedly. For God’s sake they’d been together for a full year and Ruby was the only person in the world she’d told. It made sense when she was working for him, but what possible reason could he have for hiding things now?

“No,” he said with a shake of his head. “That’s not it, Belle.”

“Then what’s the problem?” she asked.

Gold shook his head, fixing a smile on his face. “There’s no problem,” he insisted, reaching out for her again. But Belle stepped out of his grasp, crossing her arms against her chest.

“What is going on with you?” she demanded. “First you try to send Bae to boarding school and now you’re pushing me away too. We barely see each other anymore. Why?”

Liam spread his arms wide, gesturing between them. “We’re busy,” he said. “You’ve got a new job in a high stress environment. I want you to focus on your career right now. Saddling yourself with a middle aged man at this juncture of your life…I don’t want you to regret your choices, Belle.”

Belle felt her mouth drop open. Was he trying to push her away? For her own good?

“You don’t get to decide what’s best for me,” she said hotly.

“I know that,” he returned. “I’m not trying to.”

“Yes you are!”

Liam shook his head again, rubbing at his forehead as if he had a headache. And maybe she had this all wrong. Maybe it wasn’t about what Liam thought was best for her. Perhaps he was just trying to let her down easy. He was perfectly happy to fuck her, tell her he loved her, even introduce her to Bae, but he didn’t want their relationship public. He might call her his girlfriend in private, but was she really? Had the entire past year just been a fun fling for him?

Belle felt like a silly child. Here she was planning the rest of their lives together and Liam saw her as nothing more than a twenty-three year old easy lay.

“Look, if you don’t want to be with me,” she began, her voice remarkably calm for all that she was falling apart inside.

“I do!” he interrupted, gripping her by the shoulders. “God, Belle, yes I want to be with you.”

“Then, are you ashamed of me?” she asked, hating how fragile that question sounded.

Liam scoffed. “Of course not. If anything you should be ashamed of me.”

“Well I’m not,” she said petulantly. “I love you and I have no problem with the whole bloody world knowing.”

“You should,” he said quietly. “Belle, I’m not a good man. Despite what you’d like to believe, you know that to be true.”

She tried to interrupt him, to contradict, to tell him he was wrong, but he just spoke over her.

“My face was everywhere during the Glass trial. The whole of Boston hates me for defending him. Blanchard was a saint and I’m the devil who let his murderer go free.”

Belle just shook her head. “But Sidney was innocent. The jury said as much.”

“It doesn’t matter,” he said with a shrug. “In the court of public opinion, he was guilty and I’m the bastard with no morals who defended him. I can handle it. I’m used to being reviled. But Belle, you shouldn’t have to be. If we go public with our relationship, there are people who will think less of you for it.”

“I don’t care what people think,” she countered, though she knew that wasn’t strictly true. Could she handle the stares, the whispers? Could she handle her co-workers thinking she’d sold out for a rich, older man?

Liam pressed a kiss to her forehead. “It will all blow over eventually,” he assured her. “But for now, in the aftermath of the trial, I think it’s best if we keep things just between us a while longer.”

Belle found herself nodding along, agreeing silently even though she didn’t want to. In the end, what did it really matter? She was with Liam. They were in love. It didn’t really matter if the rest of the world knew or not.

“In happier news, next weekend is Labor Day,” Liam said, pulling away and checking on the rack of lamb in the oven. “Did you have any plans?”

Belle took a sip of her wine, shrugging her shoulders. “None to speak of.”

“What would you say to a weekend at my place in Nantucket?” he asked, donning his oven mitts over his shirtsleeves to pull the dish from the oven. Belle’s stomach gave a loud growl at the smell of the lamb, the savory scent of the meat mixed with the sweetness of mint and basil. “We could take the boat out. Get you in a bathing suit one last time before autumn.”

She couldn’t help but grin. “Will you actually wear a swim suit yourself?”

“Sweetheart, we take the boat out far enough, I won’t wear anything at all,” he said with a wink.

Belle giggled into her wine glass. “Well with that tantalizing offer, how could I say no?”

She turned her back to Liam, going to the cabinet to pull out plates and cutlery for their dinner, so she didn't see the way his smile fell away and the shattered look in his eyes as he watched her. By the time she turned back around he was smiling again.

* * *

_November 2014_

The trip up the stairs was trying for two reasons. The first was that Gold had left his cane downstairs by the fire and was gripping on to Belle for support. The second was that the necessity of having his hands on Belle led to them stopping for heated kisses every few steps.

He’d never in a million years thought he’d be in this enviable position again, with Belle pressed against his side, her lips finding his and leaving him breathless.

He was grateful for the trip up the stairs. The pain in his ankle, exacerbated by playing in the snow with Lizzie that morning, had lessened his ardor somewhat. Without that little snap of reality he would have truly been lost. And he was fairly certain he owed Belle nine years worth of orgasms. Whatever he could make happen tonight was only the tip of the iceberg to what she deserved.

“I missed you,” she murmured against his lips as they found themselves on the upstairs landing. “I’ve missed you so much.”

He pulled her closer, his hands bunching in the silky fabric of her camisole.

“I love you so much, sweetheart,” he said, the words bursting forth from his lips. He couldn’t hold them back if he’d wanted to. “Love you. Need you.”

Belle moaned against his lips, maneuvering him toward her bedroom. It didn't escape his notice that she failed to say the words back, but he didn't hold it against her in the slightest. He loved her, she was here with him, and that would have to be enough. Nothing good ever came from him trying to have it all.

The bed was blessedly close to the door and they fell across it in a tangle of limbs. Gold wasn’t sure how much longer his ankle could have held out if they remained standing.

Belle scooted back from him, and for a moment he thought she must have reconsidered what they were doing. Of course she would. There was no reason she should forgive him for what he’d done, no reason that she should permit him to love her again. But she just shucked off her camisole, tossing it to the floor beside the bed before grabbing at Gold’s shirt and pulling him back over her.

He hadn’t seen her naked in nine years and he found that memory had failed him in recalling her perfection. Her breasts were fuller than he remembered. She felt familiar, yet different, thinner than she was, her hipbones sharp beneath his palms. But her skin tasted just as sweet beneath his lips as they trailed down her neck, sucking and biting.

Belle squirmed beneath him, unbuttoning her jeans and wriggling out of them leaving her in nothing but a simple pair of black panties. Then she sat up, pushing him onto his back and straddling his hips.

Belle was frantic, her hands pulling at his clothing so hard that he heard a rip and several of his shirt buttons went flying. He couldn’t bring himself to mourn for the shirt. It was nothing more than a barrier between him and his precious Belle and it deserved its fate.

She trailed her hands down his chest, nails scraping against his nipples and he bit his tongue to keep from crying out. Then she leaned down, pressing her chest against his, kissing him again with bruising intensity. The feel of her skin pressed against his was heaven.

His hand trailed up her naked back, lightly tickling against her ribs before trailing back down to cup her rear, pressing her hips closer against his, grinding against her.

“Fuck,” Belle whispered against his lips and his hands tightened on her hips.

She rolled her hips against his again, the friction making his eyes roll back in his head. God she was hot against him, the heat seeming to radiate from between her legs. A second later she’d ripped her underwear off, casting them aside so she was gloriously nude astride him.

His imagination had certainly failed him.

“Belle,” he managed to rasp out. “Are you…”

“If you’re about to ask me if I’m sure, I might just punch you in the mouth,” she exclaimed, fumbling with his trouser button.

“No, I was going to ask if you were on contraception,” he managed. “I’m afraid any condoms we could find in this cabin are well past their expiration.”

Belle looked down at him with a snort. “No, we’re good.”

“Thank God,” he growled, flipping their positions and pinning her to the bed. His lips latched on to her throat, the salty taste of her skin overwhelming his senses. Belle managed to work his pants down his legs, pushing his boxers down along with them. His cock sprang free, jutting up between them obscenely as he worked his way down her body, stopping to hover above her chest.

He cupped one breast in his hand, Belle arching into his touch. He’d missed this, the feel of her, so lush and soft, fitting his hands as if she were made just for him. His thumb stroked across her nipple, the pink bud pebbling beneath his ministrations. His mouth descended on her other breast, suckling at her until her hands came up to tangle in his hair, her head falling back against the pillows with a moan.

“So good,” she sighed, her voice euphoric.

He scraped his teeth against the nipple in his mouth and Belle’s entire body shuddered, her thighs falling apart to allow him between them.

He pushed her breasts together, burying his face between them and breathing her in, worshipping her body like he’d dreamed about for so long. Then he continued to kiss down her stomach, Belle’s breath hitching as he trailed his tongue down across her ribs.

He paused over her belly, at the thin white scar a few inches below her navel. He trailed a delicate finger across it, reverently. Belle’s body had changed. It bore the marks of everything she’d been through, the struggles he hadn’t been there for, the times he had failed her.

Belle was watching him, not daring to breathe as he traced along her C-section scar. And then his lips followed his fingertips, kissing her, paying homage to the life she’d brought forth from her body, their child.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said with conviction, and Belle’s breath released in a rush. She pulled him back up to her, kissing him hard and wrapping her legs around his waist.

“I want you,” she murmured against his lips, not wanting to put any space between them by ending the kiss. “Please, I want you.”

Gold just nodded, unable to deny her this or anything she could possibly ask of him. And what’s more he didn’t want to. He wanted her so badly he thought it would consume him.

He filled her with one smooth stroke, Belle’s back arching off the bed as she called out his name to the room.

He’d never missed Boston, nor his apartment, not even the high rise office he spent so much of his time in. But he missed this, the only place that had ever felt like home, the circle of Belle’s arms, the feel of her body cradling his. Home had never been a place to William Gold. Only Belle ever held that honor. And in this moment he is finally home.

“So good,” she panted. “It never felt like this with anyone, only you.”

He wasn’t going to last, that much was clear. It had been nine years since he’d been with Belle, with anyone, and it was like a shock to his senses. She was everywhere, surrounding him, the smell of her skin and the feel of her grasping his cock so tightly in her body. He was on fire, his body shaking with the effort not to come immediately, but it was for naught. Belle was writhing beneath him, every memory and fantasy he’d held in his mind for the past nine years paling in comparison to the beautiful reality of her in his arms.

He only managed a few pitiful thrusts, face buried against Belle’s neck, teeth gritted as though in pain, before he spilled himself inside her.

“Oh!” Belle exclaimed, feeling the rush of warmth. She stroked her hands down his back, whispering calming words against his temple. He couldn't even enjoy the pleasure rippling through him knowing he'd embarrassed himself so thoroughly.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Belle said soothingly, reaching a hand up to pet his hair.

Gold shook his head, the motion of his hair tickling Belle’s nose.

“No,” he returned. “It’s bloody well not.”

With that he scooted down her body, planting himself between Belle’s legs. Before she could protest, he buried his face there, licking along her slit and tasting their combined fluids. It was enough to have him hardening again already and he redoubled his efforts. Belle’s fingers tightened in his hair, her back arching once again as he sucked her clitoris between his lips, his tongue flicking over the sensitive nub. She screamed, hips rocking against his face and thighs tightening around his ears. A moment later Gold’s chin was bathed in her wetness as she came, and he lapped up every drop, savoring the moment he’d waited for for so long.

He gave her a moment to catch her breath before diving in again, bringing her to the brink again before she crashed over in a quivering, writhing mess.

Eventually Belle shoved him away by his shoulder, her breath coming out in pants and gasps. He crawled back up her body, his bad ankle protesting at the strain. He’d pay for this in the morning.

“Oh my God,” she managed to pant out before he lined them up, sliding in to her easily. He managed to last only slightly longer than he had the first try, but Belle didn’t care. Her body was tingling from the multiple orgasms he’d given her with his mouth and she was so overly sensitive that just a couple of thrusts had her coming again.

God she’d missed this, missed him. The smell of his skin, the feel of his body against hers, the way his hips fit so perfectly between her thighs, his hard length stretching her in just the right way. Even if there was no future for them, no way to move past the hurt and pain of the past decade, she would cherish this night. She could never regret it. And when Liam spilled himself in her for the second time that night she held him so tightly she thought she’d never be able to let him go.

After three tries, Gold thought he’d acquitted himself reasonably well. Belle was dozing lightly on his chest and, though exhausted, he couldn’t find it in himself to join her in sleep. He was afraid that if he closed his eyes, this all would have been a dream. That he might awake to still being in some god forsaken part of the world without Belle, without Lizzie, utterly alone.

He combed his fingers through her hair, untangling the long dark curls across her back. Belle stirred a little, rubbing her face against his chest.

“Hey,” she said sleepily, looking up at him with a lazy smile.

“Hey,” he returned dumbly.

Belle buried her head back against his chest, letting out a little giggle. “That’s the most fun I’ve had in ages,” she said, her voice slightly muffled against his skin.

Gold quirked a brow. “And here I thought I was a lousy lay.”

Belle looked up at him again, that same lazy smile across her face. “Never,” she said with a shake of her head.

“Still,” he continued. “If I’m the most fun you’ve had in ages, I despair at how you’ve passed the last nine years.”

A shadow passed across her exquisite eyes and Gold felt it like a punch to the stomach. He wanted her smiling and happy. In his self-deprecation he’d managed to remind her of how badly he’d hurt her and how alone she’d felt after his death.

“I’m sorry, Belle,” he began. “I didn’t mean – ” he wasn’t sure how to finish that sentence so he left it hanging between them.

“It hasn’t been all bad,” she sighed, snuggling in to his shoulder. “Being Lizzie’s mum has been the best experience of my life. I wouldn’t change that for anything.”

He nodded, accepting the truth of that. Being Bae’s father had been the greatest gift he’d ever been given. He only hoped he could be there for Lizzie now, be the father she deserved.

There was still something that needled at him though. Belle had been so young when he’d left and it had been so very long.

“But you never married, never had more children, why?”

“There were opportunities,” she said with a shrug. “I dated occasionally but no one really took.”

“Any reason for that?” he asked.

Belle leaned up on her elbow, the sheet slipping from her and exposing her chest though she didn’t seem to mind. Gold kept his eyes trained on her face.

“I think you know why,” she said softly, her fingers carding through his greying hair. “Probably the same reason you’ve been living like a monk the past nine years.”

Gold shrugged. “I’ve had other things to worry about.”

“So have I,” Belle cut in, flopping back down in the crook of his arm. “Between my career and Lizzie it’s not like I had a lot of time for romance. But I didn’t ever look for it either. I figured that part of my life had come and gone. I wasn’t ever going to feel for someone what I had felt for you so what was the point?”

Gold just shook his head. “You were only twenty-three.”

“My age didn’t mean anything,” she countered, her hand tracing through the sparse hair on his chest. “It doesn’t matter if you’re fifteen or fifty, when you have what we had you don’t just get over it. As much as I often wished I could. As much as I tried at first.”

Gold squeezed her shoulder, a sign for her to continue.

“The first time I went home with someone, after you…left, was terrible.”

He snorted, idly playing with the ends of her hair. “You don’t have to lie to me.”

“I’m not!” she promised, craning her neck to look up at him. “It was a few years after everything and I was dating this guy. He was nice, _really_ nice, and I liked him a lot. There weren’t a lot of guys jumping at the chance to take out a woman with a three year old, but he was cool about it. One night we went out, one thing led to another and, it happened. Afterwards, I cried. Not just a few tears, either. I sobbed, heaving body-shaking sobs. I terrified the poor guy who had no idea what was happening. But I realized as much as I liked him, I didn’t want him. I realized I was never going to want anyone not the way I wanted you. And so after that, I didn’t get too serious about anyone. Dating was something to do and sex was no more than scratching an itch. I just kind of resigned myself to it just being me and Lizzie. No other man was ever going to match up.”

Gold shut his eyes, holding Belle tighter. Tears had welled up at the thought of Belle so alone all these years, never letting anyone too close because of some sense of obligation to a dead man. What a waste of a decade it had been. And he’d been on the other side of the world, alive if not well, with Belle none the wiser. He should have been honest with her all those years ago. He should have told her about the dangers of his life and let her make her own decisions rather than making them for her. No matter what his reasoning, no matter how good his intentions, he would never forgive himself.

“I know you’ve had enough of my apologies, but I am truly sorry, Belle," he said, his voice rasping over the words. "I never could have foreseen that my death would have effected you in such a way.”

“That’s because you’re constantly shocked that anyone could care for you,” she stated plainly. “As much as I tried to convince you of the fact, you never really believed in it, did you?”

Gold shook his head. It was the truth. No matter how much he loved, his relationships were always temporary. His father, Milah, Cora, even Bae was ripped from his arms in the end. Some part of him always expected it to end.

“I always figured you were too good to be true,” he said honestly. “That one day you’d realize how horribly undeserving I was and leave.”

Belle sat up again and this time he couldn’t help his eyes straying as the sheet pooled around her waist.

“You thought I was that fickle,” she accused. “Because I was young?”

“No,” he disagreed, his eyes still trained on her breasts. Life was short and he was going to enjoy the view. “I thought I was that unlovable.”

Belle snorted, kicking off the covers and straddling him again.

“Well, then. It appears I still have my work cut out for me in convincing you otherwise.”

He wanted to follow that line of thought. Did Belle still love him, even after all this time? Did it matter? She would never trust him again and what was her love without trust? But then her slit brushed against his sensitive cock and he nearly winced. It had gotten more use in the past couple of hours than it had in the previous decade and he wasn’t sure he had anything left in him.

“I think you overestimate this old man’s stamina, dearie,” he said with a smirk, gripping Belle by the hips to keep her from moving too much.

Belle leaned forward, pressing her lips to his ear.

“Your fingers still work, don’t they?” she whispered before sitting back with a naughty little smile.

“Aye,” he agreed. He pulled her down to him, kissing her for the thousandth time that night. He didn’t think he’d ever be able to stop now that he had the ability to do so again. How he’d ever managed to leave her behind nine years ago, he’d never know.

His hand dipped down to cup her, finding her still slick from earlier and it was nothing to slip a finger between her folds, Belle sighing with contentment above him.

“There we go,” she moaned, rolling her hips against his hand. His palm ground against her clit as his fingers worked inside her. He could feel her getting close, fluttering around him. And he thought he might have underestimated himself after all as his cock hardened at the feel of her.

“Yes,” Belle cried, her back arching, her head thrown back in bliss as she sat astride him. Liam didn’t think he’d ever seen anything so beautiful as Belle at the height of her passion, her pink lips parted as her breath came out in tiny little pants, her nipples hard and her whole body covered in gooseflesh.

Liam was still admiring the sight when there was a thump from downstairs, followed by the sound of breaking glass. He sat up quickly, immediately on alert.

“What is it?” Belle asked, drowsy from her orgasm.

“Did you hear that?” he asked, pulling his fingers from her and wiping them on the sheet. As if on cue there was another thump from downstairs.

They froze, staring at each other in horror for one terrible moment.

“Lizzie!” Belle exclaimed, hopping off of him. She had just enough foresight to throw on her bathrobe before she was out the door, running down the hall.

“Belle, wait!” he whispered harshly after her. Anyone could be in the house right now and Belle was running out there unarmed.

He grabbed his boxers off the floor, shoving his legs in them. His closest firearm was located in his bedroom across the hall and limped there as quickly as possible, cursing himself for leaving his cane downstairs. What had he been thinking letting his guard down like this? Dove had gone into town for more provisions. He’d thought with the cabin so isolated and the roads difficult from the snow that they’d be safe here, at least for a few days. He had Belle back and he was already acting like a fool.

He grabbed the gun from his bedside table and stumbled his way back into the hall. He was unsteady on his feet. His damn ankle was going to get them all killed.

Belle was standing at the end of the hall, her face white.

“She’s fine,” Belle whispered. “Still asleep.”

Gold nodded. “Go back in the bedroom and lock the door,” he said lowly. “If you hear anything that sounds like a struggle, you take Lizzie and run.”

Belle nodded, her hand coming up to grip his for a moment before she retreated back into Lizzie’s room.

Gold braced himself against the wall as he made his way down the stairs, his ankle throbbing with every step. He’d overtaxed the joint tonight. He wouldn’t be good for much in a fight, but hopefully he’d be enough of a distraction that Belle could get away. She and Lizzie were all that mattered and if his long struggle ended here, he would die happily having spent the past few days with them. Of having one last taste of his family.

He reached the bottom of the stairs, gripping on to the bannister with one hand, the other closed around the handle of his gun, finger already on the trigger. One of the panes of glass in the front door of the cabin was shattered, glittering shards littering the floor around the door. The frigid air from outside was whistling though, a few snowflakes already accumulating on the neat little welcome mat.

Someone was moving in the living room and he pointed his gun toward the noise. Gold wasn’t the type to shoot first then ask questions, but there was no reason for anyone else to be here. They could only have bad intentions.

He turned the corner, bringing the living room into view only to see a tall man with wavy dark hair standing by the sofa. He had Gold’s suit jacket in one hand and Belle’s discarded sweater in the other.

The man turned, shooting Gold a look over his shoulder as though he’d expected him to be there.

“You two have been having fun, haven’t you?” he said, casting the discarded clothing aside.

Gold dropped the gun to his side with a sigh, relief spreading through him. Perhaps the intruder wasn’t there to kill him, but he didn’t trust himself not shoot Graham Humbert anyway.


	17. Retribution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Nothing ever fatigues me but doing what I do not like.” - Jane Austen, "Mansfield Park"

_Ten Years Ago_

Belle had no idea that October 31, 2005 would be the worst day of her life. In hindsight, she suspected no one ever knew their worst day was coming. You didn’t wake up with a foreboding feeling or walk around all day seeing ravens crash into windows, harbingers of doom. You just woke up like normal, went to work, ran errands, and at some point in that 24 hours you would receive a phone call or see a news report that completely dismantled your entire world.

On October 31, 2005, Belle woke up to an empty bed. It was nothing particularly new. Liam often worked early and she thought nothing of it.

She went to her office. She had lunch with a co-worker. She arrived home at 6:00 PM, took off her heels and stretched out her aching toes in the thick pile of her entryway carpet.

She called Liam and got his voicemail. She knew he was planning on doing something with Bailey for Halloween and she didn’t want to intrude on family time, but she felt the need to leave a message, just to tell him she loved him.

She took a shower then went out for drinks with Ruby. She’d worn angel wings and a halo, Ruby a pair of devil horns and a tail. They’d been hit on at the bar and Ruby flirted enough for their drinks to be paid for all night. Then they’d gone home.

Belle turned on the 10:00 news as she got ready for bed and heard about a fiery car crash on the interstate that killed two people. The driver was identified as defense attorney William Gold whose name had recently been in the press after the acquittal of Sidney Glass for the murder of Leopold Blanchard. A severe looking photo of him leaving the trial was flashed up on the screen for all to see.

Belle fell to her knees in her small bedroom, her legs giving out. Ruby rushed into the room, grabbing Belle by the shoulders and asking what was wrong. It was only then Belle realized she was screaming, anguished sounds ripped from her mouth like some kind of wounded animal. She gripped on to Ruby, crying out like her very heart had been ripped from her chest.

No one had called her from the hospital. No one had let her know. Why would they? She was no one to William Gold, not his wife or his girlfriend by anyone's account but her own. She was nothing but a former employee.

* * *

_November 2014_

Graham Humbert was standing in the living room looking somewhere between smug and angry, the snow from outside leaving his dark hair wet, white flakes melting against the shoulders of his coat.

“Fuck, Humbert!” Gold yelled, the adrenaline leaving his system and leaving him feeling slightly light headed. “I could have shot you.”

Graham seemed unperturbed by his brush with death, his hands settling on his hips.

“What are you doing here?” he chastised. “If it was this easy for me to find you, think of who else could. Where’s Mr. Dove?”

Gold limped over to the couch and picked up his cane, bracing himself against it and giving his ankle a much needed break.

“Town,” he grimaced. “He’s due back in the morning.”

Graham shook his head.

“Not on these roads he’s not,” he said. “I barely got in and the snow is still coming down.”

“So we’re stranded,” Gold sighed. “Wonderful.”

Graham gave him a once over, wrinkling his nose in disgust.

“Would you put a shirt on? Perhaps some trousers?”

Gold shot him a glare.

“Need I remind you that you’re the one who broke into my home in the middle of the night? And broke a window no less.”

“Exactly,” Graham spat. “Your home. Are you truly stupid enough to think they won’t come looking for you here? Or do you actually want Belle and Lizzie getting caught in the crossfire?”

Gold bit his tongue, looking down at the worn living room carpet. As loath as he was to admit it, Graham had a point. This cabin was a vestige of his old life. No matter how remote or hard to get to, it was certain to be a place that was monitored by anyone who knew he was alive. But his resources were scarce at the moment and he’d needed to get Belle and Lizzie out of Boston. It was the best he had in a pinch.

“What have you heard?” he demanded. “If you came here to warn us of something, spit it out.”

Graham took a deep breath, but before he could continue, the breath left him in one long rush, his eyes fixed on something over Gold’s shoulder. Gold turned to see Belle padding down the stairs, her fluffy white bathrobe wrapped around her, arms crossed against her chest.

“Graham?” she exclaimed at the sight of her friend. “Wh - What are you doing here? Why did you break in? You scared us half to death.”

“Belle,” Graham said curtly, giving her a nod. “Good to see he hasn’t gotten you killed yet.”

“Why are you here?” she repeated with a shake of her head, her chestnut curls bouncing around her shoulders.

Graham licked his lips, shoving his hands into his pockets and looking awkward as Belle and Gold both watched him expectantly.

“I had to see you if you and Lizzie were safe,” he said finally.

“And now you have,” Gold growled gesturing toward the door with its broken pane of glass. “And now you can leave. You’re not needed here, Mr. Humbert. You’re not a part of this family.”

“And you are?” Graham scoffed. “Who sat with Belle at the ER the night Lizzie broke her arm? Who was sitting on the front row of St. Elizabeth’s Montessori school’s elementary production of Peter Pan to see Lizzie play a tree? Who took her to the beach every summer? It certainly wasn’t you!”

“I didn’t know she existed!” Gold fired back, his pointer finger shoving Graham in the chest. “You kept her from me. Because you’re in love with Belle and you wish you were Lizzie’s father but you’re not!”

Liam finished off, his chest heaving. Graham just shook his head, his hands coming to rest on his hips.

“And so what if I am?” Graham countered. “So what if I love Belle? I came to the realization long ago she’d never feel that way for me and I accept that. But I do love her and I will always be here to protect her, especially from you.”

Belle just blinked. She’d always suspected, always known really, how Graham felt about her. But to hear it finally said aloud was jarring. He was her best friend, had always just been her best friend. Either way she didn’t appreciate being talked about like she wasn’t in the room. She was tired of the men in her life deciding what was best for her.

“I don’t need to be protected, Graham,” she said, her voice steely.

Graham sighed, giving a weary shake of his head.

“Yes you do, both of you.” Graham turned to look at Gold again.

“They’re looking for you.”

“They?” Gold asked, more a statement than a question.

“Zorza’s men,” Graham clarified.

“Zorza doesn’t know I’m alive,” Gold countered with more confidence than he felt. Jones had told him as much and the man had no reason to lie. But Milah had been in contact with someone else, someone who could have the resources to find him.

“Then why is the chatter in Boston that Killian Jones was shot 2 days ago by a dead man?” Graham countered. “God, why would you leave him alive? Are you really that stupid?”

“What?” Belle interrupted, stepping forward. “Jones is alive?”

Liam looked up at her, his eyes unfathomable.

“I told you there’s been too much bloodshed,” he said quietly. “I don’t like killing.”

Belle shook her head. “You let me think you’d killed him. I thought…” she trailed off, going to sit in the chair by the fire. “He was going to kill Lizzie and you’re telling me he’s still out there?”

“He won’t be up and about for months,” Liam promised. “And he’s been arrested for murder. You’ve nothing to fear from him.”

Belle just nodded, staring down at her hands clasped in her lap.

“It’s not Jones you should be worried about,” Graham cut in. “It’s the people who’ve been snooping around after what happened to him.”

Gold nodded. “We need to move then,” he said, already planning out where he could take Belle and Lizzie at such short notice. He’d charged Dove with acquiring passports and other documents for them. They could leave the country if necessary.

“There’s a bounty on your head, Gold,” Graham said wearily. “You escaped him once, he won’t allow it to happen again. There’s nowhere you can go where you’ll all be safe. You know that.”

Gold sat down heavily on the living room sofa, his ankle needing the relief. He was trapped. If he didn’t go to Zorza, it would put Belle and Lizzie in danger. They would be collateral damage like Bae. That was the one thing he’d tried to avoid, the reason he’d left in the first place.

He should have stayed dead. He should never have come back. He should have left them alone.

“Alright,” he said, coming to a decision. “If Mr. Zorza is so keen on seeing me again, I’ll pay him a visit.”

“You can’t!” Belle exclaimed, jumping out of her chair and rushing forward. “Liam, he’ll kill you.”

Liam shook his head.

“Belle, he will kill all of us.”

Belle paled, her lips parting.

“You won’t be able to leave until morning,” Graham interrupted. “You’ll have to dig your way out. You’ll need the light.”

Gold nodded. “Then I suggest we all get some sleep,” he said, using his cane to push himself up to stand. “Mr. Humbert, if you don’t mind taking the couch.”

Gold turned to head up the stairs, Belle trailing after him.

“We are not done discussing this,” she said in a harsh whisper. “We said we’d find another solution, one without bloodshed. We said we’d find a way out of this together.”

Gold sighed, turning to face her on the upstairs landing.

“That was before Zorza put a bounty on my head,” he said. “Do you honestly think we have the time for careful planning now? They will come for us, they will kill anyone to get to me, including you.”

Belle stormed in to the bedroom and Liam followed, closing the door behind them.

“I won’t lose you again,” she said, turning to face him with angry tears springing to her eyes. “Not when you took nine good years from me already. You don’t get to leave us again, Liam. Do you hear me? I will never forgive you for that.”

Liam nodded. “I know.”

Belle shook her head, refusing to believe what was happening. “No,” she said. “No. What am I supposed to tell Lizzie?”

“Tell her that I love her and I’m sorry I couldn’t be a better father. Tell her that in the end, I tried to do the right thing.”

“Liam,” she said, her voice rasping over his name. “There has to be another way.”

“I love you, Belle,” he said, moving forward to kiss her forehead. “I’m sorry my actions deprived us of the life we should have had together. I’m sorry I lied to you. And I know you may never really forgive me, but everything I’ve done I've done out of love.”

Belle pulled away from him pacing across the bedroom floor with her shoulders hunched as if she was trying to make herself as small as possible. She looked lost.

“You fucking asshole,” she cried finally, the tears coming in earnest now. “You came back. I let you back in against every better impulse. I let you spend time with Lizzie.”

“And I thank you for that,” he quickly assured her, cupping her shoulders with his hands and halting her pacing. “Belle, despite everything, the past two days have been the best of my life. But it was always borrowed time, sweetheart.”

“So what’s your plan?” she demanded. “You’re just gonna drive back to Boston and walk through the streets with a sign on your back that says ‘Come and get me’?”

Gold chuckled lightly, shaking his head.

“No, I’ll go to Zorza’s home,” he said. “And then I’ll either kill him or die trying. Either way, you and Lizzie will be safe.”

“So it’s come down to this,” Belle said, shaking her head. “Kill or be killed. There’s always another way, Liam. We were on to something with our research. This whole thing goes deeper than just Zorza, you know that. What if killing him doesn't solve anything?”

“If you cut off the head, the body dies, Belle," he said measuredly. "I should have cut off the head a long time ago. The whole world would be better for it.”

“An hour ago we were…” she trailed off. Gold looked at the rumpled bed sheets behind Belle. An hour ago they were happy, or as happy as the two of them could be now. Any hope at reconciliation was over before it had begun.

“You have to come back,” Belle said with a decisive nod of her head. “I don’t care what you have to do, you come back to us. God, I haven’t even had the opportunity to be properly angry with you yet. You can’t take that away from me. I deserve the right to be mad at you for ages and I can't hate a dead man. You have to come back.”

She was rambling, her words rushing out of her haphazardly. It was so unlike the Belle he knew that it took him by surprise. A day ago he'd have thought she'd be happy to have him gone once and for all, but apparently he'd been mistaken. 

“I’ll try,” he said finally. And he would. He had something worth living for. He wasn’t sure what the future held for he and Belle. He wasn’t sure they could ever get back to what they’d once been, but he wanted the opportunity to try.

* * *

The next morning dawned grey and dismal. The snow had had slacked off overnight, but the weak winter sunlight wasn’t enough to burn off what had accumulated. Dove had managed to get a call through to let them know he couldn’t get by on the back roads in his small, luxury car and would be setting off on foot. It would take him hours to reach the cabin that way, but Gold welcomed the extra security he would provide for Belle and Lizzie.

Meanwhile, he and Graham set out with snow shovels and an ancient snowblower Gold had left rusting in the shed. They managed to clear out a bit of a path and Gold took Graham’s truck with its heavy-duty snow tires, leaving the other man with his Cadillac.

Belle watched from the kitchen window, a cup of tea in hand. She had barely slept the night before, dreading what morning would bring.

Before he left, Liam had pulled Belle aside, kissing her goodbye. Graham stood in the living room, pretending not to notice.

“I will see you again,” Belle said with more conviction than she felt. “This isn’t the end.”

Liam just nodded, his eyes suspiciously wet, and left without another word.

Lizzie woke up a half hour after Liam had left, excited to see Graham had arrived in the middle of the night but confused about where her father was.

“Mom,” Lizzie asked, her big brown eyes looking up at Belle questioningly. “Where’s Liam?”

“He had to go out for a bit,” Belle said vaguely.

“When is he coming back?” Lizzie asked.

Belle bit her lip, taking a deep breath through her nose before answering.

“I’m not sure, baby.”

“He didn’t say goodbye,” Lizzie said with a pout.

“Well, that’s because it’s not goodbye,” Belle reasoned. “He’ll be back. And he didn’t want to wake you up.”

“Okay,” Lizzie said before slinking off to play with Graham.

Belle was a ball of nervous energy that needed to be burned off. She couldn’t just stand around waiting to see if Liam ever came back again, or if she had to hear his name in yet another news report. It went against her very nature not to be proactive.

Liam hadn’t even been gone a full hour when she gathered up all the files Liam had showed her the night before and stacked them neatly on the kitchen table. Then she pulled Graham aside from where he'd been playing Chinese checkers with Lizzie.

“Give me the keys to the Cadillac,” she demanded, holding her hand out to him. Graham looked at her as though she were insane.

“No,” he said, crossing his arms. “I’m supposed to protect you and Lizzie. That means keeping you from rushing off to do something stupid.”

Belle took a breath, trying not to lash out at the man in front of her no matter that he deserved it.

“If Liam thinks I’m going to sit here doing nothing while he runs off and gets himself killed, he’s insane,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “He forced me to do that ten years ago when he lied to me and it won’t happen again.”

“Belle,” Graham said with a shake of his head. “What can you possibly do?”

“Dammit, Graham!” she cried, before lowering her voice, trying not to disturb Lizzie in the other room. “I can do something. I can try to help. No one will ever let me help. You two lied to me for as long as I’ve known you to try to protect me, but guess what! I can take care of myself. I’m not your child. I’m not the little helpless woman who needs to be sheltered from the hard realities of the world. You have taken away my agency at every turn and you owe me. So give me the keys to that car right now or I will take them from you by force.”

She glared at Graham, her eyes hard and he blinked, taking a step back.

“Are you going to fight me on this?” Belle demanded, stepping forward and jabbing a finger against Graham's chest. “Because my daughter just got her father back and I’ll be damned if she loses him again.”

Graham stared at her as if he was just now seeing her for the first time. Then he nodded and pulled a set of keys out of his pocket, handing them to Belle.

“This is dangerous,” he warned her. “There’s no way to know this will end well for any of us.”

“I know,” she agreed. “But the only way Lizzie is ever going to be safe is if we get to the bottom of this. Liam might be headed for a confrontation with Zorza, but he’s not the only one mixed up in this.”

Graham sighed, wiping a hand across his face. “God, I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“That makes two of us,” Belle said nervously. “You’ll protect Lizzie with your life?”

Graham nodded. “You know I will.”

She hugged Lizzie goodbye, telling her she had to go back to the city for work for the day, but would be back later that evening. Lizzie was just thrilled she wasn't being dragged back to the city for school. So Belle gathered up all of Liam's files, placed them on the front seat of the Cadillac, and headed off.

* * *

The drive back to Boston was a blur, the peaceful white woods giving way to highway giving way to city blocks, greying half melted snow piling up in the gutters. Belle felt as though she was emerging from a dream. It felt like a lifetime since Gary had grabbed her near Granny’s diner, but it was only the space of a weekend.

Belle pulled into the parking garage next to Midas, Gold and Nolan and it could have been any other Monday morning. Sharply dressed men and women were coming and going from the building, the low hum of voices and phones ringing and elevator buttons dinging felt far too normal for the adrenaline pumping through Belle’s system. The marble floors of the office lobby were as buffed as ever. The security desk was running efficiently even without Graham. Someone bumped into Belle’s shoulder as they passed to the elevator bank, letting out a muffled “excuse me” without giving her a second glance.

For everyone else, it was a typical day filled with boring meetings and coffee breaks and lunch with friends. For Belle, it could be the new worst day of her life.

She shook her head, clamoring on to the crowded elevator and punching the button for the 42nd floor, trying and failing not to recall her first ride in this very same elevator to the very same floor.

The day she’d met Liam.

She could feel bile rising up her throat. This wasn’t the end. She wouldn’t let this be the end.

It felt like it took an age to finally reach her floor and Belle stumbled out of the elevator car, grateful for the familiar wooden flooring and fluorescent lighting of the law office.

“Where have you been?” Kathryn Nolan demanded, seemingly materializing as Belle entered the office suite. “I’ve been trying to get hold of you all weekend.”

“A lot has happened,” Belle said, looking around the office dazedly. Was it really just Friday that she’d last been here, sitting at her desk with no idea that Liam was alive or that anyone might want her dead? “I lost my phone and Gary was murdered.”

“I heard,” Kathryn said grimly. “Are you okay? I know things ended badly between you, but for something like this to happen...”

Belle nodded. She wasn’t okay. Not really. She wasn’t entirely sure she’d ever qualify as okay again. Her world had been so twisted, turned upside down, in the past few days that she hardly knew which way was up. But right now she had something she needed to do.

“Look, is Mal in?” she asked.

“I think so,” Kathryn said, a frown line appearing between her eyebrows. “Should be in her office if she is.”

Belle nodded her thanks and set off down the hall to Mal’s office at a trot. There was no time to lose.

“What happened to you?” Mal exclaimed as Belle appeared in her office doorway. She gave her a once over, taking in Belle’s jeans, sweater and parka.

“Are you on vacation this week? Listen I heard about poor Gary," she said with a magnanimous wave of her hand. "Take as much time as you need.”

“Mal, I need to talk to you,” Belle insisted, closing the office door behind her. “Is Regina Mills still in the city? I know she was here last week, she said the two of you had lunch. Do you know how long she was planning on staying?”

Mal blushed slightly, actually blushed. Belle didn’t think she’d ever seen such a thing on her mentor’s face. “Yes,” she said cagily. “The weather derailed her travel plans. I believe she’s trying to catch a flight back to New York this afternoon.”

Belle gave a sigh of relief. This was the first bit of good luck she’d had lately.

“Do you know where she’s staying? I need to speak with her. In person.”

Mal glanced around the room as if trying to find something to focus on. Finally she met Belle’s gaze, staring up at her defiantly.

“As a matter of fact, she’s staying with me,” she said as if daring Belle to comment.

Belle blinked. She had never speculated on the nature of Regina and Mal’s relationship, but she supposed they made sense in a strange sort of way.

“Thank you,” Belle said sincerely before running out of the office leaving a bewildered looking Mal in her wake.

“Now what the fuck was that all about?” she muttered under breath before returning to her morning emails.

Belle sped the few blocks to Mal’s place in Back Bay, a large old brownstone that Mal had been constantly renovating for the better part of a decade. She knocked sharply on the polished wooden door, bouncing from one foot to the other with nervous energy. How much time had she spent on this already? What if Regina didn’t have any pertinent information to offer? What if Liam had already made it to Zorza? Belle was flooded with mental images of Liam, bloodied and broken, hulking faceless men standing over him with guns.

The door to the brownstone swung open, interrupting that line of thought. Belle couldn’t let herself get bogged down in what ifs right now. She needed answers. It was the only way she might be able to help Liam.

“Belle French,” Regina exclaimed, leaning against the door jam. In her white cashmere turtleneck and grey wool trousers she didn’t look like the imposing attorney Belle was used to. She looked softer, at home in Mal’s cream and gold foyer.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Regina asked with a wide grin. “Here to cash in on that lunch rain check? Afraid I can’t today. I can finally get home now that the infernal snow has lightened up.”

She cast an eye up at the grey storm clouds and grimaced. But Belle hadn’t come here to talk about the weather.

“Regina, I need to talk to you about Daniel Stabler,” she said, not even bothering with niceties.

Regina paled, her eyes going wide, her position suddenly defensive. She cast a glance outside onto the street as if someone could overhear them before ushering Belle inside. Then she turned to face her, eyes stony.

“What are you doing?” she demanded harshly, all semblance of friendliness dissipating. “Who put you up to this?”

“No one,” Belle said, shaking her head. “Regina, I know he was arrested for Leopold Blanchard’s murder and I know he died in prison before his trial. I also know that you knew him in some capacity. He worked for your mother’s organization. What I don’t know is why he would be pinned for a murder I don’t think he committed. And that’s a question I desperately need an answer to.”

“Why?” Regina asked, her arms crossed defensively.

Belle took a deep breath, weighing how much of the truth she should share with her old rival. She supposed everyone would know the truth soon enough if Liam continued with his plan, and she was desperate.

“Because Gold is alive,” she said, her voice wavering only slightly. It was still so strange to say aloud. “Gold is alive and I think whoever had Daniel killed is going to try to kill him too.”

Regina’s mouth dropped open in surprise.

“Gold is alive?” Regina repeated. “He’s here? In town?”

“Yes, Regina, I know it sounds crazy but he’s here and he’s in danger, everyone I love is in danger.”

Regina leaned a hand against the wall, shaking her head. “Well that makes sense,” she said lowly, as if talking to herself. “That evil bitch.”

“What?” Belle asked. “What do you know?”

Regina pushed away from the wall of the foyer, heading down the hall toward the lounge.

“You should sit down,” she said, motioning toward the sleek modern sofa in Mal’s living room. “It’s a long story.”

* * *

It had been remarkably easy to get here. Too easy. Gold’s hand gripped the handle of the gun concealed in his coat pocket as he walked up the drive to Zorza’s suburban mansion.

There were no armed guards. No men anywhere that he could see. In addition to Graham’s truck there was only one other car parked in the drive, a sleek silver Mercedes with dealer plates.

Gold felt uneasy. He’d expected to have to shoot his way in if he wanted to see Zorza in person. He’d expected a bloodbath. Instead he found neatly trimmed hedges peeking out from the snow, birdsong in the air, a quiet morning on a quiet, tree-lined street.

He recalled what August Booth had told him when he first arrived in town, that no one had seen Zorza in months. He suddenly wondered if the man was even alive. And if he wasn’t, who exactly had put the bounty on his head with Jones laid up in the hospital?

The cut glass in the solid oak front door winked in the weak autumn sunlight and Gold weighed his options. He could knock, announce himself, walk in proudly with his head held high, the prodigal son returned to slay his scheming father. Or he could sneak in, try to catch Zorza unaware. He was sure the premises were video monitored. If anyone was watching, they'd surely already be alerted to his presence. But the property was eerily quiet. 

Gold reached out, trying the door handle on the off chance it worked, and the front door swung open without resistance, as if the house was welcoming him inside. This felt wrong and for a moment Gold wondered if Zorza even lived here anymore or if he was about to accidentally walk in on some middle aged stockbroker's breakfast. 

A tall red haired woman in an emerald green skirt suit appeared at the foot of the grand wooden staircase at the end of the hall, walking briskly toward him. 

“Mr. Gold, I presume?” she asked, swinging the door open wide. “We’ve been expecting you. Please do come in.”

Gold narrowed his eyes, leaning heavily on his cane as he followed the woman into the dark cherry paneled foyer. A plush oriental carpet in shades of red muffled the sound of his footsteps and cane as he followed along behind the redhead and the front door shut behind him with thudding finality.

“I’m Zelena Greene,” the redhead tossed over her shoulder by way of introduction. “I’m Mr. Zorza’s personal assistant. I’ll show you through to him at once.”

Gold’s spine stiffened, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. He was about to have a private audience with the man he’d sought vengeance on for years. He would finally confront him, face to face, the monster who had taken his son from him.

He almost felt dizzy with the thrill of it, of being so close to attaining his goal. Other than Ms. Greene, the mansion felt deserted, no echoing footsteps, no chatter of voices. Zorza was an old man. He would kill him, avenge Bae, ensure that Belle and Lizzie were safe, and then he would leave and forget he’d ever heard the man’s name.

Cut off the head, and the body would die.

Gold followed Ms. Greene down the hallway, but he was surprised when they walked right past the door to Zorza’s personal study. Gold had been in this house a few times before when he’d been in Zorza’s employ. He knew the man preferred to meet in that imposing room hung with exotic hunting trophies and antique wall mounted rifles, a massive mahogany desk separating him from the person he was threatening.

But Ms. Greene didn’t lead Gold to the study. She bypassed the parlor at the end of the hall as well with its large stone fireplace and antique furniture. Instead she took Gold through the immaculate stainless steel kitchen and stopped outside an unassuming door in the hallway beyond.

Ms. Greene motioned at the door.

“Go in whenever you wish,” she said, her voice hushed. “If you need me I’ll be in the greenhouse.”

With that, Ms. Greene disappeared through a back door into the yard and Gold turned to face the wooden door that separated him from his prey.

Without wasting another moment, he twisted the doorknob and pushed it open.

It was dark inside the room, thick curtains pulled tight against the windows and letting in only the barest amount of light at the edges. It took Gold a moment for his eyes to adjust before he realized it was a small bedroom, probably intended for a servant in the house's original design. There was a steady beeping coming from somewhere in the room and he entered warily.

There was a large bed in the center of the room with an intricately carved wooden headboard. A thick red duvet was pulled back and it was only then Gold realized what he was seeing.

Peter Zorza was stretched out on the middle of the bed, his skin pale in the low light of the room and pulled tight across his gaunt face like wax paper. His eyes were closed and if not for the monitor next to the bed showing the rhythmic beat of his heart, Gold would have thought he was dead. Gone was the strong man who held all of Boston in his grasp, replaced by a corpselike specter, a thin patch of white hair covering his liver spotted head. His face was mostly obscured by the large breathing apparatus that covered his nose and mouth.

Zorza wasn’t dead, but he was good as.

This wasn’t right. The man before him was in no position to have put a bounty on his head. Either Graham had lied to get him to turn himself in in some misguided attempt at protecting Belle, or someone else was calling the shots in Zorza’s name. Either option seemed just as likely.

Gold swallowed down the disgust he felt to see his nemesis brought so low. This wasn’t the victory he had imagined, but he’d take it either way. He could worry about the rest later.

He moved closer to the bed, flicking on a lamp on the square wooden bedside table.

Zorza flinched, his head jerking to the side, away from the light source.

“Hello, Mr. Zorza,” Gold said, his voice smooth as silk. “It’s been a long time. I wish I could say you were looking well, but of the two of us I think I look far less like a dead man, despite your best efforts.”

Zorza’s eyes snapped open and he let out a gurgling, rasping sound from around the tube in his throat as though he were trying to say something. The ventilator droned on, Zorza’s heartbeat spiking ever so slightly in the monitor by the bed.

“Oh yeah,” Gold said, bracing himself on his cane and leaning in close over the bed. “It’s me, Willy.”

He spat the old nickname, hating it, hating the man before him, hating the man he’d become.

Zorza’s eyes looked up at him, watery and pale. Gold could only hope he understood, that senility hadn’t taken his mind.

“You failed,” Gold whispered harshly. “You tried to keep me on your string and I broke free. You tried to murder me and I survived. You couldn’t best me, Zorza. But I could forgive all that, if pressed. I could let you die with whatever dignity you have left in tact. I would do that, but for one thing.”

He leaned ever closer, his face mere inches from Zorza’s. He could smell the man, a sickly sweet stench of decay. He had one foot in the grave already.

“You did the one thing I could never forgive,” Gold growled. “You killed my son.”

“No he didn’t,” came a familiar cool voice from behind him. Gold spun around to see a face he’d once thought he loved. A face he hadn't seen in years. A face he loathed.

"Cora." 

 


	18. A Father's Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "There are as many forms of love as there are moments in time." - Jane Austen, Personal Correspondence

Liam Gold had never been accused of being a stupid man. Even his harshest critics had to accede to his intellect choosing to instead attack his moral fiber, his personality, or his reputation. No, he’d never been a stupid man. But standing face to face with Cora Mills in the bedroom of a dying man, he realized he’d made a terribly stupid mistake.

“It’s good to see you, William,” Cora said, her crimson lips twisting up into an approximation of a smile, as if she was hardly capable of such a thing these days.

“Cora,” he said curtly. “What are you doing here?”

“Protecting my investments, of course,” she said, moving further into the room. She motioned at Zorza with one manicured hand, the other settling on her hip. “He didn’t kill your precious Bailey. And even if he had, what would you do about it now? The man’s days are numbered. He can’t even breathe on his own. What are you going to do, unplug him? Trust me, it would be a relief.”

Gold stepped forward, positioning himself between Cora and Zorza’s bed. She was 5’2 without heels. She was pushing 60. She was slight, and looked as though she’d never lifted a finger to do hard labor in all her life. But looks could be deceiving and Gold knew how dangerous Cora Mills could be. The gun in his coat pocket weighed heavily.

“What did you do to him?” he demanded.

Cora raised one delicate eyebrow, his question startling a chuckle out of her.

“Oh I didn’t do anything but bide my time. Age and a penchant for hard liquor and cigars did this, not me. Even the strongest of men fall in the end.”

Cora swanned forward, stepping around Gold and looking down on Zorza, her face betraying nothing.

“Why are you here, William?” she asked, her demeanor as cool as ever as her eyes remained trained on the bedridden man. “Is it revenge? Really? After all these years?”

“If you have to ask that, I question your parenting,” Gold sneered. Cora let out a tinkling laugh, crossing her arms against the pristine blue wool of her Chanel suit jacket.

“I would think your knack for self preservation would trump the idiocy of this little plot,” she countered, bringing a hand up to dust an imaginary piece of lint from the shoulder of Gold’s overcoat. It took everything in him not to flinch away from her touch. “You’re a smart man, William. You must know there’s no way of you leaving here alive.”

Gold smirked with a confidence he didn’t feel. He knew he was a dead man the moment Cora entered the room. It had all been too easy. It stunk of a trap and here was the spider, catching him in her web. There was only one way his story was ever going to end – with blood and violence and no happily ever after.

“You presume I have anything worth living for,” he lied smoothly. “I’m so close to my goal I can reach out and take it. I don’t care what happens to me after that.”

Cora let out another of those tinkling laughs that struck Gold like ice water. “I know you have something worth living for,” she said, clapping her hands together. “Jones’ big mouth was good for one thing at least. Your daughter is really quite pretty. Takes after her mother, I presume.”

Gold kept his face impassive but for the muscle in his jaw, jumping in irritation. He couldn’t bear for Cora to speak of Belle and Lizzie. Not here and now. He could end this. Stop this now without a single concrete answer. His hand clenched around the handle of the gun in his pocket.

“Get your hand out of your pocket, William,” Cora tossed out as casually as could be. “You’re not going to use that gun on me and even if you were dumb enough to try, you’d be dead before I hit the floor. I promise you Zelena is much more deadly than she looks.”

“What do you want?” he bit out. “I presume there’s a reason your thugs haven’t stormed the room yet to murder me despite the bounty you put on my head.”

Cora’s mouth twisted into another of those vicious smiles, stepping away from Gold. He felt he could breathe again once the scent of Chanel No. 5 wasn’t overpowering him.

“To tell you the truth,” she said. “Watching you stumble around in the dark has been fun, but I’ve grown tired of waiting for you to catch up.”

Gold shifted his weight, leaning on his cane subtly to take pressure off the bad ankle that was still giving him fits from the night before. A night that felt so far away now it might as well have been a dream, slipping through his fingers as soon as he awoke until all that was left was a pleasant impression rather than a concrete memory. He couldn’t think of Belle now or he would truly be lost.

“So this is the part where the villain reveals her evil plot,” he said snidely.

“Oh I’m not the villain, William,” she said, turning to look at him over her shoulder. “I’m not the one mowing down men just hired to do a job. I’m not the one on a revenge quest. That’s the thing about you men; you always think you’re the hero of the story. Jones, Zorza, you’re all the same.”

That wasn’t quite true. Gold knew he was a villain. He never pretended to be anything but. It didn’t mean he wanted to lose because of it no matter how much he deserved to.

“Are you the hero of this story then, Cora?”

Cora snorted a laugh, a harsh, unladylike sound he’d never heard from her.

“I’m a pragmatist,” she said with a shake of her head. “I have no time for heroes and villains, just results.”

Gold stepped away from the sick bed, still keeping Zorza in his peripheral vision. He hadn’t forgotten his goal in coming here, no matter what Cora had to add to the story. She said Zorza hadn’t killed Bae and technically she was right. It had been Milah, a situation he’d already taken care of. But Zorza had ordered the hit on him. Zorza may as well have pulled a trigger. Intent was meaningless when the outcome was the same, his son’s death. The steady beeping of the machines attached to Zorza droned on, the humming mechanical sound of his respirator a soundtrack to this moment. He, Zorza, Cora, they would all be gone soon. The world would be a better place for it.

“Alright,” Gold allowed, cocking his head in Cora’s direction. “I can appreciate a worldview that doesn’t dwell on the black and white. Red was always your color, wasn’t it Cora?”

Cora bared her sparkling white teeth in a smile. “We had that in common, didn’t we? It’s a shame to see you trying so hard to be something you’re not. That girl, she changed you.”

Gold bit down on the inside of his cheek to keep back the retort, to keep himself silent and stoic. He wouldn’t let Cora play that particular weakness. He wouldn’t let her use Belle against him.

“You promised me the truth,” he prompted. “Or was that just a ruse to keep me talking? Perhaps the reason armed guards haven’t stormed the room yet are because there aren’t any here. Maybe you’re just biding your time once again.”

Cora shook her head. “Oh, you’re not half as clever as you think you are, William,” she said, stepping toward him, invading his space. She ran a hand down the lapel of his jacket, stopping at the center of his chest, her hand right above his heart. Her fingers dug into his chest, through the thick wool of his overcoat. "Perhaps I just wanted to see you one last time." A moment later, she’d pushed away again.

“I met my good friend Mr. Zorza here, what, ten or twelve years ago?” she said, pausing to tap her finger against her lip as though recalling some mindless bit of trivia. “It was at a fundraiser for my Hart foundation. He gave a very generous donation and we struck up a lucrative business arrangement.”

“He funneled money to his businesses through your charity,” Gold said. He’d worked out as much.

“That sounds crass,” Cora corrected. “But, more or less, yes.”

“A mutually beneficial arrangement, I’m sure,” Gold said. “So what changed to put him there.” He nodded to the bed where Zorza was blinking feebly in the low light.

Cora’s eyes widened, her mouth falling open in an O shape, the very picture of innocence. The expression was grotesque on her, knowing the type of person she was, the things she’d done.

“I told you I had nothing to do with poor Peter’s condition,” she said. “If anything I’m keeping his businesses alive. Do you know how quickly the wolves would descend if they knew the state he was in?”

“And I’m sure you do that out of the kindness of your heart,” Gold said sarcastically.

“I do it because I care about what happens to the empire we built together,” Cora said, dropping the innocent act. “Because I made sacrifices, I worked my ass off, and I won’t have it all taken away from me because his old body is failing him.”

“Ah,” Gold said with a nod of his head. “So you’re keeping him alive for your own benefit. A curious twist. If only you could have done the same for Leopold Blanchard.”

Cora scoffed, tossing her auburn hair over her shoulder.

“Leopold Blanchard had become a thorn in both of our sides,” she said, motioning to Zorza. “I’d known the man for years of course. We were engaged briefly in our youth. The cheating bastard dumped me for that simpering Eva and married her instead. Completely derailed my aspirations. I had to waste another year courting Henry before I had the ring and the money to do what I wanted.”

Gold gave that revelation no more than a slightly raised eyebrow.

“But this has nothing to do with being a jilted woman,” Cora continued. “I didn’t love him. Henry suited my purposes just as well and had the added benefit of being a good deal stupider than dear Leopold. No, Leo was driving up the cost of business. He had a development deal in the works. The Hyperion Heights project. Taking entire city blocks in the south side of the city and developing affordable housing for the community. Some called it gentrification, prettying up the bad side of town. But he wasn’t selling off luxury condos. He wanted to create better housing for the people who already lived there.”

Gold had heard of the project at the time and knowing Zorza’s business interests it seemed likely that Cora’s story was true. It didn’t explain Zorza’s insistence on pinning the murder on Sidney Glass though.

“Of course, Zorza owned several apartment complexes in the neighborhood and the Hart Foundation did extensive outreach there. It was our bread and butter and Leo was cutting us out. We couldn’t let him do that.”

“So you killed him,” Gold surmised. He hadn’t been sure of what Cora’s motivation would be in wanting the man dead. But of course it would come down to money and power and the threat of having even some small amount of that taken away.

“Oh, I didn’t kill him,” Cora said, placing a hand against her chest. “My hands are clean. But I did find someone willing to.”

“Stabler,” Gold said. The poor boy whose innocence Belle had been so convinced of. The boy who’d died in prison.

Cora smiled. “You’ve been doing your research. Yes, I hired Daniel Stabler for the job. He was desperate for my approval and I offered him the one thing he truly wanted.”

“And what was that?”

“Regina,” Cora said simply. “He wanted to marry my daughter. He wasn’t worthy of course, and I’d never have allowed it. I planned for him to get caught, go to prison, die there, and lose Regina’s naïve and misplaced adoration. He would never touch my daughter again. You see I can protect my children, unlike you.”

Gold didn’t let the barb sink in. Cora had destroyed her own child’s happiness, ruined lives, and for what? Her own gain. He would never do something like that to Bae or Elizabeth.

“Then why pin it on Sidney Glass?” he asked, his voice rough. “If all of this was to eliminate a business rival and ruin your daughter’s boyfriend’s life, why involve me at all?”

“I was afraid Daniel would chicken out,” she said with a disappointed sigh. “He didn’t want to murder, didn’t want to ‘be like his father’, he said. So I sent Sidney along with him to make sure things went smoothly. Daniel was fairly proficient at breaking and entering and it was no trouble getting in the house. But once they had Blanchard on his knees, begging for his miserable life, invoking his daughter’s name, Daniel got squeamish. He left. Sidney cleaned up.”

Gold felt the breath rush out of him.

“Sidney killed him.”

Cora positively cackled with glee, her head falling back as if it was the most amusing thing she’d ever heard.

“How does it feel, William?” she asked, her cheeks flushed pink and eyes bright with mirth. “How does it feel to know that you damned yourself, killed your own son, endangered your daughter, all to let a guilty man go free? How does it feel to know there was no conspiracy after all?”

“You’re lying,” he spat. “Why would Zorza go to the trouble of forcing me to take the case, of hunting me down for disobeying him, if Sidney committed the crime? Why not let justice play out without interfering?”

“Sidney didn’t technically work for him,” she said with a shrug. “He worked for me. It took scrutiny away from Zorza. No one looked at him in connection with Sidney Glass. It’s why we went into business together in the first place. I provided a sort of buffer, I suppose. Everyone knew Zorza and Blanchard were rivals. But no one would ever suspect a former Miss America with a penchant for charity.”

Zorza let out a wheeze on the bed, his eyes rolling wildly. Gold turned to look at him and Cora crossed the room, coming stand by the bedside. She ran a hand down the side of Zorza’s pallid face, making soothing shushing noises.

“There, there,” she said gently. “There’s no reason to get all worked up. Are you in pain? Blink once for yes, two for no.”

“You made sure Stabler took the fall anyway,” Gold accused and Cora glanced over her shoulder at him.

“Well of course I did,” she said, checking the monitors next to Zorza’s bed and frowning. She pushed a button on one of them, increasing the dosage on his painkiller drip. “He and Regina had devised some harebrained scheme to run away together. He would have ruined everything. I had to get him out of the way.”

Zorza made a rasping sound around the tube in his throat, scrabbling at it. Cora just smiled down at him serenely.

“I know this is news to you too,” she said softly, patting Zorza’s arm. “But there’s so very little you can do about it now.”

Cora stood, walking over to a panel set into the wall and pressing a button.

“Zelena, Mr. Zorza is unwell,” she said into the panel. “Call for his doctor at once.”

Something brushed against the back of Gold’s hand and he nearly jumped before realizing it was Zorza. He’d reached for him, grabbing at him. Gold pulled his arm away in disgust, but Zorza just motioned weakly to the nightstand beside his bed where a pad of paper and pencil sat.

Gold looked at Zorza questioningly, but the other man’s eyes just rolled to the side, looking longingly at the paper.

Cora was still distracted, speaking to someone else on the panel now. Probably calling for reinforcements to take him out back, club him to death, and leave him in the river. He thought of Belle, waiting for him to come back to the cabin and never arriving. He thought of Lizzie and wondered if she’d even remember the scant days she spent with her father once he was gone. With his death, they would be safe. Lizzie would grow to a ripe old age, have children of her own. That’s what mattered.

Zorza was still making gurgling sounds, his frail hand outstretched toward the nightstand and Gold gave in to curiosity. What could be so important for Zorza to tell him now, before both of their inevitable deaths?

He grabbed the pad of paper, placing it on the bed next to Zorza and balancing the pencil in his hand.

It took Zorza a moment to get a grip on the pencil and then another to apply enough pressure to leave a mark on the page. When he was done, he dropped his hand wearily to the bed, pushing the pad at Gold.

He picked it up to see two words scratched there, barely legible.

_My son_.

Gold sucked in a breath.

_Don’t make the mistake of thinking you’re the only one with a family_. They had been the last words Zorza had ever spoken to him, so many years ago.

Suddenly it all made sense. Why he wanted Glass to take the fall, why he’d threatened Gold when it hadn’t happened, why he saw Bailey as a fitting price for Gold’s treachery.

He raised his eyebrows at Zorza. “Daniel?” he said, his voice little more than a whisper.

Zorza just closed his eyes, once, in a long blink. Yes.

Gold pocketed the notepad, it thunked against his gun still nestled there. Cora had finished up her conversation on the intercom.

“I’ve called for tea,” she said with a smile. “There’s no reason we can’t be civil in all this. I can offer you one last cup of tea.”

“I have one more question,” Gold cut across her. “Sidney. Yes, he was guilty, but why was he so happy to admit it? Why did I have to fight him to enter a not guilty plea? A career criminal attacked by a crisis of conscience?”

“The little creep always did whatever I told him to,” Cora said with a wave of her hand. “He didn’t have any family for Zorza to threaten, no attachments. But he was rather fond of me. I used that.”

Gold shook his head with a scoff.

“You manipulated men who loved you and your daughter.”

“Men do stupid things every day in the name of love,” she spat. “And not just romantic love. Love of family, love of community. Leopold Blanchard loved too much and look where it got him.”

She turned, looking at him with a wide smile. “Look where it got you.”

“And Zorza,” Gold said, motioning over his shoulder with his thumb. “You knew he loved his son. That’s why you lied and told him Daniel had been the one to pull the trigger. That’s why you went out of your way to make Sidney look the innocent party. That’s why you told Zorza to hire me.”

Cora looked shocked for a moment before her face settled into another of those unnerving smiles.

“You knew I’d get him off,” he accused. “You knew Sidney would go free and Zorza would blame me for his son’s death once you put it in motion.”

“Well, when you can kill three whole birds with one stone, it’s an absolute necessity,” she said with a grin. “I’m nothing if not efficient. You never could stand to lose even when it was in your best interest.”

“You hated me that much?” Gold said, stalking forward, his eyes blazing, his heart thumping in his chest. All of this had come down to Cora. She’d been playing them all for a decade, moving the chess pieces where she wanted to reach her desired ends.

“Oh, no,” Cora said, shaking her head. She approached slowly, as if Gold were a wounded animal, waiting to strike. She placed one hand against his cheek, leaning in close, and it was all Gold could do not to flinch away. “I loved you that much.”

Gold felt nothing but contempt, nothing but hatred, for the woman before him. His hand strayed to his pocket once more and he finally pulled out the gun, jamming the barrel into Cora’s side. She glanced down at it before looking back into his eyes.

“You’re not going to pull that trigger,” she said with absolute confidence. “Because there’s a part of you that still loves me too.”

“You vastly overestimate my feelings for you,” he said through gritted teeth. “And even if it were true, you claim to love me and still tried to have me killed. You still put a bounty on my head, drawing me to my death. Perhaps we’re not so different you and I.”

Cora shook her head, her eyes suddenly suspiciously wet.

“Don’t you see, William?” she said sadly. “You’re the only man I’ve ever loved, my one weakness, just as Daniel was Regina’s. I had to remove you both. There’s no place for love in our lives. But you’ve always been softer than I am.”

“So it is true,” came a voice from behind them.

Cora and Gold both whirled around to see Regina framed in the doorway, Belle only slightly behind her and accompanied by a blonde woman he’d never seen before.

“Belle!” he exclaimed, his heart stopping in fear. She was supposed to be safe at the cabin with Graham. What was she doing here right in the pit of vipers?

“Regina,” Cora said at the same time.

“Everything I never wanted to believe you capable of, it’s all true,” Regina accused, stepping forward into the room.

Cora stepped away from Gold, holding up a placating hand to her daughter.

“Regina, everything I have ever done for you is for your own good.”

“How can you even say that?” Regina cried.

“Look at all you’ve accomplished,” Cora said. “You’re a partner in a law firm, a respected member of the NYSBA, you could run for office. You could be governor, or president. You would have none of that if you’d run off with that boy.”

“I would have Daniel,” Regina said, visibly shaking with rage. “All this time you let me believe he was really a murderer. That he was no better than his father. That he’d abandoned me. You lied to me and you killed the only man I ever loved.”

Cora snorted. “You didn’t love Daniel. You think I don’t know about your carrying on with Mallory Fitz? You don’t like men at all.”

“I’m bisexual, Mother,” Regina said, disdain dripping from every word. “Read a book.”

Belle’s eyes were fixed on Gold from over Regina’s shoulder and he couldn’t pull his eyes from her either. He thought he’d never see her again. He thought he’d die here. He was upset that she wasn’t safe, far away from here, but at the same time it was so damn good to see her. He would go out guns blazing to protect Belle. If this was how he died, at least he got to see her one last time.

Cora stepped to the wall, punching the button on the intercom panel.

“Zelena,” she barked. “Send Ace and his team. We have intruders.”

There was no answer.

“Are you going to have me killed too, Mother?” Regina asked, crossing her arms in a defiant stance. "Your own child? Did you ever for one moment love me at all?" 

Cora glared at her daughter. “We will talk about this later.”

“Zelena,” she yelled again, punching the button even harder.

“If that’s the redhead with the mean left hook, she’s already in the back of my cop car,” the blonde said, speaking for the first time. “As for the rest of your lackeys, we weren’t stupid enough to come here without backup. The place is surrounded.”

Cora’s eyes snapped to the blonde as if seeing her for the first time.

“This is Detective Emma Swan with the Boston PD,” Regina said, her voice hard as ice. “We’ve been in contact over the past several months as she investigated the Hart Foundation for fraud. I think this will help your investigation, Detective Swan?”

Emma’s hand was on the gun in her holster, her eyes narrowed as they bounced from Zorza’s sickbed, to Gold’s gun still trained on Cora, to the family spat happening in the middle of the room.

“Yeah,” she said, snapping into professional efficiency. “This is definitely reasonable grounds for arrest.”

“Regina,” Cora said, her voice a warning. “You don’t want to do this.”

Regina arched an eyebrow, a smirk so similar to her mother’s crossing her face.

“If you think that’s true, then you don’t know me at all, Mother.”

“Cora Mills you’re under arrest for embezzlement, fraud, criminal conspiracy and murder. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law…”

“Get your hands off me!” Cora yelled, shrugging against Emma.

“Do you really want to add resisting arrest to your already lengthy list of crimes?” Emma asked, unperturbed. “As I was saying, you have the right to remain silent…”

Her voice trailed off as she steered Cora out of the room and Regina followed.

“Belle,” Gold gasped, once they were alone together, the hand holding the gun dropping to his side once Cora was out of sight.

Belle rushed forward into his arms, wrapping her own around him so tightly it felt like she never wanted to let go.

“God,” she cried after a moment, taking a step back and smacking him hard on the chest. “Don’t ever do something that stupid again! What were you thinking coming here alone? You could have been killed!”

“If I died, you and Lizzie would live,” he said simply. “That seemed an even trade.”

Belle shook her head, tears falling in earnest.

“You stupid, stupid man!” she said, swiping at her tears with the back of her hand. “You don’t have to do this stuff alone anymore. You never had to do any of this alone.”

“I just wanted to protect you,” he said, knowing the words were hollow. “And I wanted to protect myself. I didn’t want you to see the darker parts of me. I didn’t want to lose your love and I managed to do just that. I was selfish.”

“Yeah,” Belle agreed with a sniff. “You did more things wrong than I can count. But you didn’t lose my love.”

“No?” he asked, barely daring to hope. A loud rasping noise came from behind them and Gold turned, momentarily distracted by Zorza still lying in the bed. This was neither the time nor the place for this conversation.

“How did you know where to find me?” he asked finally, turning back to Belle. He wasn’t sure how Belle had managed to show up in the knick of time with the very person who could stop Cora and a police officer to boot.

“Regina did,” Belle said, nodding out the open door the Mills women had departed through. “I knew she was the key to all of this, the link between all the disparate pieces. I talked to her, I asked about Daniel, together we filled in the rest of the blanks. She put in a call to Emma, and here we are.”

“I told you to stay at the cabin,” he said with a shake of his head.

“I couldn’t,” she said. “I couldn’t sit back and watch you die again, not if I could do something to help.”

Gold nodded, a relieved sob welling up in his chest. “I’m glad you didn’t listen to me,” he said. “You should never listen to me. I should always listen to you.”

Belle laughed, her smile brilliant despite the tears in her eyes.

“Don’t you forget it.”

He pulled her into his arms again, breathing in the scent of her hair, letting it ground him. Belle was alive, he was alive, Lizzie was safe, they could start over, have a new beginning.

If that was what Belle wanted.

There were footsteps out in the hall beyond them, the low hum of voices. Gold supposed Detective Swan’s backup were searching the place, a full on raid happening in the house around them. They needed to get out of here.

He pulled away, keeping Belle’s hand in his, not willing to break their connection just yet, leaning on the cane in his other hand. He needed to get off his bad ankle before he damaged it further.

“So this is him,” Belle said, nodding toward the bed beside them. “The fearsome Peter Zorza.”

“What’s left of him,” Gold said with a shrug. “I used to think he was the source of all evil in this city. That everything that had ever gone wrong in my life could be traced to him. But he’s just a man, no worse or better than myself.”

Belle looked up at him, her eyes bright.

“You’re not a bad man, Liam,” she protested, squeezing his hand. “You’re not like him.”

Gold shook his head. He and Zorza were more alike than he cared to admit. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t change for the better.

“He was looking for revenge for his son’s death,” he said. “He set me on the same path. Then Jones followed. I won’t let that happen again. I’m ending the cycle.”

“How?” she asked, looking up at him warily. Gold smiled at her reassuringly.

“Zorza is going to die, frail and old and miserable, never leaving that bed,” he said. “And I’m never going to think of him again after this moment.”

He met Zorza’s eyes over the mask that covered most of the other man’s face.

“This is over.”

Zorza’s eyes closed resignedly, one long blink.

Gold gripped Belle’s hand, warm and solid in his, and walked out of the room without a backward glance.


	19. The Apportion of Blame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Her heart did whisper that he had done it for her." - Jane Austen, "Pride and Prejudice"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One last chapter after this one. Just a bit of wrap up on what's next for Gold and Belle and the fate of Cora. Thanks for reading!

When they walked out into the bright sunshine outside of Zorza’s estate, Gold was almost shocked to see it was still daytime. It felt like he had entered the house days ago, that he would spend the rest of his life there however long or short that might be.

But a scant hour later he was leaving, breathing in lungful’s of fresh air, Belle at his side, gripping his hand tightly.

There was a flurry of activity outside the estate, squad cars parked up and down Zorza’s expansive front drive. An ambulance had arrived and paramedics were rushing inside, Gold presumed, to take care of Zorza. He hadn’t heard any gunshots. He imagined Cora didn’t pay her men well enough to die for her.

The redhead, Zelena, was sulking in the back of the nearest cop car. A burly man with a head of curly dark hair was pressed against the hood of another car, being read his rights. Detective Swan had certainly come prepared. It looked like in one fell swoop the entire Mills-Zorza partnership was going down in flames.

“Mr. Gold, I presume?” Detective Swan said, approaching he and Belle with a raised eyebrow.

“The rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated,” he returned.

“Seems that way.” Emma gave him a lopsided smile. “I’m gonna need you to turn over that gun,” she said with a nod to his pocket. “Considering you’re legally dead, there’s no way you have a concealed carry permit.”

“Nothing gets past you, does it?” Gold asked as he emptied the magazine on his handgun, turning it upside down and handing it to Detective Swan. “It seems I’ll have a lot of paperwork to go through now. Might take a while to get around to firearm permits.”

Emma chuckled. “Well I hate to rain on this parade ,but I am going to need you to come down to the station with me. You’re not much of a reliable witness if you’re considered dead in the eyes of the law. We'll need to get that sorted.”

Gold shrugged. “I’m not sure how worthwhile my word will be given my past, but I’m happy to do anything to help.”

Emma nodded, before looking at them both bracingly.

“I’ve been trying to put Cora Mills away for a long time. You two were exactly what I needed. I’ll warn you though. Cora has a lot of friends from law enforcement to government to the judiciary. I’ll do everything in my power to make sure these charges stick, but this won’t be easy.”

Belle snorted. “Nothing in our lives has ever been easy, why should it start being so now?”

“As long as you know what you’re in for,” Emma said with a wry smile. “Welcome back to the world of the living, Mr. Gold.”

Emma stalked off to confer with one of her police officers and Belle squeezed Gold’s arm, pulling his attention back to her.

“I like her,” Belle said with a decisive nod. “She’s dating Graham, you know.”

“Small world,” Gold said, suddenly suspicious. “Was Mr. Humbert aware of her investigation into Cora Mills?”

Belle shrugged. “I’m not sure. I think their relationship has been pretty casual so probably not.”

Gold crossed his arms against his chest, frowning at the detective’s retreating back.

Belle heaved a sigh.

“You think Graham had something to do with this, don’t you?”

“The world isn’t that small, sweetheart. And that man keeps far too many secrets.”

Belle let out a snort. “That’s rich coming from you.”

Gold just gave her a choice eyebrow. 

“Look, if Graham somehow put Emma onto the case in the first place and steered her in the direction of Regina, we should be thanking him. He more or less saved your life.”

“Inadvertently,” Gold grumbled.

“All the same,” Belle said with a roll of her eyes. “If I can forgive you for the things you lied to me about, why can’t you forgive Graham? You each made mistakes that took a parent away from Lizzie for far too long.”

Gold’s eyes widened, turning to face her fully.

“You forgive me?”

Belle shrugged again. “I mean it’ll take some time to build up the trust again. It’ll take some time to move past the hurt. You definitely need to learn to open up more and allow people to help you. But I know you were doing what you thought was necessary to keep me safe. And I can forgive you for that.”

Gold shook his head, blinking rapidly to keep back the tears that threatened to fall. After last night he thought Belle might still have feelings for him, but he’d never expected her forgiveness and certainly not so quickly.

It was all becoming a bit much. He’d spent decades keeping his emotions in check, keeping a straight face at all times and only allowing himself to break down in complete privacy. But now, he was alive, against all odds. He had Belle beside him. And he was being offered a far more precious gift than he could ever deserve.

“Belle,” he managed to rasp out, his voice thick.

She smiled up at him, gripping his arm tightly.

“Let’s get out of a here for a bit,” she said understandingly. “I want to see Lizzie.”

He could do nothing but nod as Belle hurried over to Emma to tell her they would be by the station later, after they’d checked on their daughter. Moments later, they were in Graham’s truck, headed back to the cabin.

The drive had seemed too short that morning, time zipping by as he approached his doom. Every turn in the road, every mile marker, counted down the moments he had left. He would achieve his revenge, yes. He would end this and make the world safe for Belle and their daughter, but he’d also never see them again. No matter how settled he was on his decision, Gold would never be happy with that outcome.

But now, sitting in silence with Belle, the drive felt infinitely long.

He glanced at the seat next to him where Belle was worrying her lip, staring down at her hands. She had said she forgave him for his actions nine years ago. He had survived the unthinkable. And yet the air felt stifled in the warm cab of the truck. The tension was palpable, and awkward.

Now what?

“Are you alright?” he asked, chancing to reach across and rest his hand over Belle’s anxious ones.

Belle startled slightly, but before he could pull his hand away, she caught on to it with one of her own.

“Yeah, I’m great,” she said unconvincingly, linking her fingers with his. “I mean, this is what we wanted, right? Zorza’s no threat. Cora is hopefully going to prison for a long time. We’re free to do whatever we want now. You're free.”

Gold narrowed his eyes at Belle. “Are you trying to convince yourself or me?”

She chuckled, shaking her head a bit. “After the extreme stress of the past few days it just feels a little strange to take a breather. That’s all.”

Belle squeezed his hand before letting it go so he could return both hands to the steering wheel. The afternoon sun had burned off a lot of the snow from the night before leaving a slushy mess in its wake. The last thing he needed was to lose control of the car and crush his other ankle.

Nevertheless, he continued sneaking surreptitious glances at Belle for the rest of the drive to the cabin. She didn’t seem inclined to give voice to her thoughts, but he could tell something was bothering her. And what that something could be had his stomach twisting in knots.

The cabin was as peaceful as it had been when they’d left it that morning and Belle hopped out of the car as soon as it came to a complete stop, rushing up the front steps and scooping Lizzie up in her arms as soon as she was through the front door.

She buried her face in her daughter’s hair, breathing in the soothing sweet baby scent of her, unable to speak around the lump in her throat.

“Mom?” came Lizzie’s muffled voice against her shoulder. “What are you doing?”

“I just missed you today,” Belle said, pulling back with a sniffle and smoothing back her daughter's tangled curls.

“I thought you just went to work,” Lizzie said skeptically, her eyebrow rising toward her hairline.

“I did,” Belle agreed. It wasn’t technically a lie. She had gone in to the office after all, however briefly. “I went to the office and it was a very hard day. And I’m happy to see you at the end of it.”

“Oh,” Lizzie still didn’t look convinced. But she allowed her mother to pull her on to her lap on the sofa and continue to cuddle her.

“Are we staying here forever or are we going home soon?” Lizzie asked.

“We’re going home,” Belle said with a nod, looking over her daughter’s head to meet Liam’s eye as he stood in the doorway. She wasn’t sure what that entailed exactly, what she and Liam were to each other now. But she had to get back to her life and more importantly, get Lizzie back on her regular schedule. “It’s back to school tomorrow for you, young lady.”

Lizzie let out a groan but otherwise voiced no protest. Belle had the suspicion her daughter was just as eager for things to go back to normal as she was. But who knew what normal looked like now that Liam was in their lives.

“Humbert,” Liam greeted Graham stiffly as the other man came through from the kitchen. “Your detective girlfriend has a hell of good timing.”

Graham raised an eyebrow. “Emma came through?” he said with a grin. “Then I take it things went well.”

“It appears I owe you a thank you,” Liam said, twisting his cane in his hand and not looking Graham in the eye.

“Yes you do,” Graham said. “That wasn’t one, by the way.”

Liam grimaced. “Don’t push your luck.”

Graham chuckled, crossing his arms against his chest and leaning back against the arm of the sofa leisurely. Belle rather thought he was enjoying Liam’s obvious discomfort.

“I still don’t like you,” he said with a shake of his curly head.

“I don’t like you either,” Liam replied. “But I’m a big enough man to thank you for protecting my family when I couldn’t.”

“They’re not just your family.”

“No,” Liam agreed with a glance over at Lizzie and Belle. “I don’t suppose they are.”

“Mom, are they gonna hug?” Lizzie whispered loudly on Belle’s lap.

"Not bloody likely," Liam intoned as Graham pushed away from the sofa, letting out an awkward cough. 

"I guess we should start packing up the truck to get back to Boston," he said, leaving to busy himself with preparations. 

* * *

The following week was one of the strangest and most surreal of Belle’s life.

They’d spent a good deal of time at the police station, getting Liam’s sudden resurrection from the dead sorted through and providing witness statements for the situation with Cora. A week after the showdown at Zorza’s they’d received news that Peter Zorza had passed away quietly in his sleep. Liam had accepted the news with a grim face. Belle thought he felt little satisfaction in the death of the man he'd hated for so long. In the end, revenge was never as sweet as you thought it would be.

Lizzie had returned to school and Belle returned to work as though they hadn’t just survived a long weekend from hell. Belle was quickly inundated with questions the moment she stepped off the elevator to Midas & Gold. Everyone wanted to know the truth of what had happened, was Gold really alive, Cora Mills arrested, and Belle present for all of it?

Mal had pulled her aside midmorning on her first day back for a break from the scrutiny. She knew enough of what had happened from Regina.

“Remember about ten years ago when you first started working here,” Mal asked, leisurely sipping a latte from a paper cup. Belle was sitting opposite her desk on the large leather sofa she had set against one wall.

“Yes,” Belle said, not sure where her old mentor was going with that line of questioning.

“One of the first things I advised you to do was to stay away from Gold,” she said with a shake of her head, a wry smile twisting her lips. “No one ever listens to me.”

“You foresaw all this?” Belle asked with a smirk. Mal just leaned back in her plush office chair, turning it this way and that as if she hadn’t a care in the world.

“It’s impossible to foresee anything where Gold is concerned, but this seems fairly standard, yes.”

They stared at each other for a long moment before Mal broke, her face splitting into a wide smile. Belle couldn’t help but follow suit.

“Tell the old bastard I’m glad he’s not dead,” Mal said, returning to her coffee.

Belle just nodded. She knew Mal had always been more fond of Liam than she let on.

“So am I.”

* * *

Belle knew she should be happy as the weeks stretched on, and part of her certainly was. They had survived a nightmare, one that had put both her and Lizzie in mortal peril. They were alive, and so was Liam. They finally had the chance to be together, as a real family.

But the blows were still landing in a way that made Belle wonder if the nightmare would ever truly be over. A few days after Zorza’s death, Zorza’s attorney had contacted them alerting Liam that Zorza had bequeathed certain assets to him in his will. The Justice Department had seized the bulk of Zorza’s wealth during the ongoing investigation, but there were a few offshore accounts that were nigh untouchable. Gold had been left a tidy sum across accounts that equaled a number high enough to make Belle’s head spin.

It was enough to sour Liam’s disposition for days as he muddled over what to do. He didn’t want anything from Zorza, and he didn’t like the implied strings that went along with the inheritance. It almost felt as though Zorza had planned to pass the torch as it were, appointing him as his successor. That was something Gold wanted absolutely no part of. The thought that a man that evil had felt some sense of camaraderie with Gold, even at the end of his life, left him sick to his stomach.

He wasn’t sure why Zorza had done it exactly, but it felt like a form of revenge rather than a gift. His resolution to never think of his old boss again was shattered, Zorza making sure to tether Gold to him from beyond the grave. 

Meanwhile, Belle and Liam hadn’t indulged in anything more intimate than a chaste kiss since the night they’d been together. The sheer relief of being alive was a powerful aphrodisiac, but there’d been an unspoken agreement between them to take things slow. They had both changed so much in the past nine years, in ways they were both just beginning to discover. They needed time to relearn each other. They both wanted this to work and it was imperative they do things right, for Lizzie’s sake.

Well, Belle thought they both wanted it to work. And yet there was something holding her back from real happiness, an overwhelming sense of guilt combined with a sickening fear the likes of which she’d never felt before. She was always waiting for the other shoe to drop, that sense of pessimism born from a lifetime of disappointments, but she knew that when things seemed to be going her way, there was always something waiting in the wings to ruin her life. And one night, it finally came to a head.

Liam noticed it. He hadn’t moved in with Belle and Lizzie, maintaining his own apartment and giving Belle her space, but he’d started coming over for dinner in an effort to spend more time as a family.

He was helping Belle wash the dishes and load the dishwasher as Lizzie watched television in the lounge when his hand caught hers over the soapy dishwater.

“What’s bothering you?”

Belle shrugged. “What could be bothering me? Everything is great.”

Liam leveled her with a look that said he wasn’t buying that for a second and Belle rolled her eyes. She dried her hands on a dishtowel, shutting the dishwasher door and leaning back against it. She was almost afraid to give voice to what was bothering her, so she started with the most straightforward thing first.

“Sidney was guilty,” she said. “All that time and effort we put into getting him off and he was guilty the whole time. Leo Blanchard’s killer will never face justice. That’s my fault.”

Mary Margaret Blanchard had made a rare television appearance that morning to address the charges brought against Cora Mills, including conspiracy to murder her father nine years ago. Miss Blanchard had stood in front of television journalists pale faced and wide eyed and said she felt at peace, that her father could finally rest knowing his killer would face justice. She expressed remorse for the family of Daniel Stabler and gratitude to the Boston PD for putting the case to bed once and for all. She’d stood there small and strong and resilient after being forced to relive one of the worst experiences of her life. And she had no idea that Belle French had been the impetus behind letting her father’s killer go free.

“Sweetheart, that’s not your fault,” Gold said, reaching for her. “You were a student, not an attorney. I was the one who got Sidney off. I believed him as innocent as you did. This is on me.”

“But if I hadn’t meddled in the first place –” Liam cut her off with a look.

“You did what you thought was right,” he said. “Never apologize for that, Belle. If more people had your conviction the world would be a better place.”

“Even if that conviction leads to terrible outcomes?” she asked, panic rising in her chest. “All of this is my fault, because I wanted to save a guilty man. If you’d just done what you were asked all those years ago without me meddling, none of this would have happened. Bae would be alive and Lizzie would have had her father and we could have been together instead of apart and miserable. How many lives have I ruined because I wanted to do what was right?”

She finished off with a ragged gasp, suddenly feeling faint, and Liam helped her into a kitchen chair. The room was spinning around her, and her lungs seemed incapable of breathing in enough air. That flood of water, always about her ankles, was rising to drown her. Liam was back and the panic was still there, because everything, all of it, was her fault.

“How can you even stand to look at me?” she demanded. “Knowing what we know now? Everything that has gone wrong in your life is my fault.”

Liam was wide eyed, looking out of his depth as he knelt on the tile floor in front of Belle. His hands were a vice around her upper arms, that one touch keeping her grounded, keeping her from completely dissolving.

“Belle you didn’t ruin my life,” he cried. “You were my salvation. You were the thought that kept me going all these years. You’ve given me a second chance at love at family at things I’d thought I’d long since lost. None of this is your fault. It’s mine and Cora’s and Zorza’s but never yours. If I’d followed Zorza’s orders all those years ago I’d still be in that world. I’d still be under his thumb. Because of you, I’m free.”

Belle swiped at the tears blurring her vision. “Is that freedom worth the cost?”

Liam seemed at a loss for words, and she had her answer. He would have gladly done Zorza’s bidding for the rest of time if it meant Bailey was still alive, if it meant he could have spent the past eight years being Lizzie’s father. Because of Belle he had missed out on the lives of two children. How could he ever forgive her for that?

The sound of a laugh track from whatever sitcom Lizzie was watching in the living room carried through to the kitchen, the sound incongruous with the tension in the room. A hysterical bubble of laughter welled in Belle’s throat and she choked it down.

“Belle,” Liam finally said, his voice weary. “There’s nothing we can do to change the past. The only thing we can do is look forward. But know that there is not one cell of my being that blames you for any of this. I was a grown man and I made my own choices. You only ever inspired me to be better. Sweetheart, there's nothing to forgive, but even if there was, you've already offered me so much forgiveness for what I've done to you. How could I not return that gift?”

Belle could only nod, hoping Liam was right. That he wouldn’t, someday soon, realize the depth of her role in these proceedings. That he wouldn’t wake up and realize he could never love the woman who had cost him so much. She hoped that she wouldn’t wake up to realize the same.

She rested her head against Liam’s shoulder, letting him stroke her back soothingly. After a moment, the hard floor started to agitate his ankle and Liam stood, leading her into the lounge where Lizzie was happily distracted by something on the Disney channel. Belle curled up on the sofa next to Liam, letting him hold her as close as he wanted, her cheek cushioned against his chest hearing his strong heartbeat beneath fabric and flesh and bone. He was alive and so was she, so was Lizzie. They were a family now and that’s what mattered most.

She had forgiven Liam. But if she could forgive herself, it would be a bloody miracle. 


	20. The Final Blow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Know your own happiness. You want nothing but patience -- or give it a more fascinating name, call it hope." Jane Austen, "Sense and Sensibility"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is kind of a big deal for me. This is the first novel length fic I've ever finished. Most of my multi chapter stuff comes in at the 20-50K word mark, so creating something novel length is a pretty big achievement for me. 
> 
> It's always a little bittersweet to finish a story, but I want to thank everyone who has left comments and kudos over the past three years. I'm sorry it took so long, but at least we reached the end!

There had been a time, not too long ago, when kissing William Gold was a distant memory, something that could be pulled out and inspected on a long, cold night but never to be enjoyed again. But now, as Belle French found herself pressed back against her sofa cushions being thoroughly kissed by Liam, almost everything seemed right with the world once more.

His lips moved from hers, dragging across her jaw and down her neck, biting and sucking at her pulse point which meant Belle would be forced to wear a turtleneck to work tomorrow, or a scarf, but she couldn’t find it in herself to care. Liam was here, in her arms, right where he belonged.

It had been a few nights since her meltdown in the kitchen and Belle had felt marginally better once she got her feelings out in the open. She knew that nagging sense of guilt would hound her for months or years to come, but knowing that Liam didn’t blame her made the ache ease ever so slightly. They had promised to come through this together. And so she had kissed him, really kissed him. And the next night she kissed him again. And now it had become a nightly tradition to end the evening making out like randy teenagers before Liam inevitably excused himself to his own home.

Liam’s hand had found its way up underneath Belle’s sweater, tickling across her ribs and up over the satin fabric of her bra. Belle gasped, arching into Liam’s hand and wanting nothing more than to throw her offending sweater across the room to give him better access. But Lizzie was asleep just upstairs and that was probably an unwise move.

“Wait,” she murmured against Liam’s lips.

As quick as lightning, Liam snatched his hand away, sitting back and putting as much space between them as possible on the small sofa.

“I’m sorry,” he said with a shake of his head, clasping his hands across his lap and doing little to mask his excitement. “I got carried away. I should go.”

“No,” Belle exclaimed, sitting up from where she was still pressed against the arm of the sofa, and grabbing Liam by the shirtsleeve. “I was just going to suggest that we take things to my bedroom.”

Liam blinked, his face confused. “What?”

Belle rolled her eyes. “I want to go to my bedroom to continue what we were doing here,” she said slowly. “Because it’s more private and our daughter won’t enter without knocking.”

Her slow and reasoned response seemed to do little for Liam confusion.

“But what about taking things slowly?” he asked. “What about all the things we still need to talk about and the therapy we should be probably both have?”

“We have been taking things slowly and I’m tired of it. I want you to make love to me, Liam. Don’t you want that too?”

“Yes,” he said with an emphatic nod of his head. “Absolutely.”

Belle couldn’t help the smile spreading across her face. “So then take me to bed.”

Liam stood quickly, pulling her up with him. A moment later his mouth had crashed down on hers once more, maneuvering her out of the living room and toward the stairs.

Later, when Belle was wrapped up in Liam’s arms, tangled up in the sheets and slightly sweaty from exertion, that aching feeling in her chest lightened ever so slightly more. They were going to survive this. All they needed was a little hope. 

* * *

 

The final blow landed the following week, a few days shy of Thanksgiving. It was one both Liam and Belle had been waiting for, even if they’d been loath to voice that fear aloud.

Cora had entered a plea bargain.

“She’ll get 20 years at most,” Liam lamented pacing across the living room, after Graham had called him with the news. “She should get life in prison for the murder charges alone, not to mention the racketeering, the criminal conspiracy, I could go on. Instead she’ll be out on parole in a year, two tops.”

Cora had pled guilty to embezzling funds from the Hart Foundation, by far the lightest of the crimes laid at her door. The idea that any judge would be willing to drop the far more serious organized crime charges was mind-boggling. But such was the power of Cora Mills. Nothing ever seemed to stick to her. The only thing that would suffer was her reputation. Perhaps she wouldn’t receive invitations to next year’s batch of charity balls. A fitting sentence.

“Emma did warn us that was a possibility,” Belle said, crossing the room to rub at the tense line of Liam’s shoulders.

Liam shook off her hands, and Belle stepped back, stunned. Ever since she’d unloaded on him that night in the kitchen, laying bare all her guilt and fear, things had seemed to be progressing between them. Liam had spent the night almost every night of the past week, making breakfast for she and Lizzie in the mornings. They’d said fuck it to taking things slow and indulged in each other like there was no tomorrow. They’d spent long nights curled up together talking. Liam had shared extensively about the nine lonely years they’d spent apart. There’d been a bit of yelling, a lot of tears, and a lot of finding peace in each other’s arms. She’d never felt as close to him, but now here he was, shutting her out again like old times.

“Belle,” Liam began with a shake of his head. He leaned heavily against his cane suddenly looking ten years older as if Cora was sucking the life from him even now. “It’s entirely possible this nightmare will never be over, that the specter of Cora Mills will follow us for the rest of our lives.”

“What are you saying?” Belle asked wearily. “That you should have killed her when you had a chance? We said no bloodshed. That’s not the man you are.”

“I’m saying that you and Lizzie are too important to me to risk losing you again!” he exclaimed. “That that woman holds a very long grudge. When she gets out of prison, she’ll come after me and she’ll use you to do it! ”

“You want to leave,” Belle said with horrified realization. “After all we’ve been through in the past month, in the past nine years, you just want to leave again.”

“No,” Liam countered, grabbing at Belle’s hand with his free one. “Never. I don’t want to leave you. But, you can’t deny that it may be for the best.”

“Yes I can,” Belle exclaimed. “Liam, the cat is out of the bag. Everyone knows that the fastest route to get to you is through Lizzie and me. How could you even begin to think about leaving us? Why is your first impulse always to run?”

Liam took a step back, seeming surprised by her words. He still expected her to think she was well shod of him, that she was better off without him. After so many years and all the evidence to the contrary, he still had trouble believing she could want him. Belle knew they were fighting an uphill battle, but that was one argument she had hoped had been laid to rest.

Liam seemed to deflate before her eyes, all sense of righteousness leaking out of him like so much air.

“Because I’m a coward,” he said plainly. “Because I’m afraid.”

“Afraid of what?” she pleaded. “Of losing us? The surefire way to do that is to run again.”

“I know,” he agreed. “But Belle, you must know after all these years exactly what type of man I am.”

“A man who’s made wrong choices,” she said with a shrug. “But a man with a good heart. I’ve seen it, Liam. I’ve always seen it.”

Liam looked unconvinced. They were both so broken, both blaming themselves for the horrors of the past nine years. Belle knew in her heart that there would eventually come a time when neither of their first impulse was to run away. Despite the closeness that had developed between them over the past few weeks, they were both still so skittish. Liam never thought he was good enough for her and the decade apart had only exacerbated that. And despite her best efforts, Belle was still just waiting for Liam to find a reason to abandon her.

“I can’t…” Belle trailed off with a sigh, gathering her thoughts. She was so afraid to put it into words, but she had to be brave. “I can’t do this if I’m constantly worried you’re going to disappear on us again.”

“I know.”

Liam looked so sad, leant against his cane in her bright and feminine living room. He seemed so out of place there, a dark shape against the pale greys and light blues that made up her decor. His eyes were fixed on a spot on the cream carpet, the lines of his face thrown into sharp relief by the overhead light. And why was this so hard? Belle realized that some part of her had hoped that once everything was taken care of, once they were no longer in danger, their relationship would go back to the way it had once been. That had been naïve. They’d both changed too much in the interim to ever go back. They could only move forward.

“I love you,” she said, realizing it was the first time she’d said the words since Liam’s return no matter how much she’d thought them over the past few weeks. “I do. I love you and I never stopped loving you in all the time you were gone. But Lizzie comes first for me now. And if I can’t trust you to do right by her, to do right by both of us, then how can we have any sort of future?”

Liam sat down heavily on the sofa, raking a hand through his hair, leaving the long strands mussed.

“I’ve been running for the better part of a decade,” he said. “Since long before that even. Belle, I haven’t had a home or a family in so long that I’ve forgotten how those things even work. I’m trying, sweetheart. I’ll try every day, but I’m afraid it’s going to take time to adjust.”

Belle smoothed her palms against her skirt, sitting beside Liam and watching his profile.

“I know it’s going to take time,” she said with a sigh. “I know we can’t go back. But there are always going to be things that scare us, okay? There’s always going to be something that could threaten to tear us apart but it’s the daily struggle of working through that together that makes a life. And I want a life with you, Liam.”

Liam nodded. “I want nothing more than to be a part of this family.”

Belle smiled, taking his big hand in hers. “Then we’re on the same page. Can we try to stay there?”

“I don’t deserve you,” Liam said, squeezing her hand. “Either of you. But I want to try to.”

Belle shrugged, leaning her head against his shoulder, their hands still linked. “I don’t know. I think after everything we’ve been through we both deserve a little happiness.”

A snort of laughter was her only reply, and it was enough. For now, sitting here with Liam was enough.

“Come away with me,” he said suddenly, after a long moment of silence. “Both you and Lizzie. I’ll take you anywhere in the world you want to go.”

Belle sat up, turning to face him with her mouth open in shock. Was he serious? His grand plan for fixing their propensity to run was to run away _together_?

“What, now?” she balked. “Forever?”

“No,” he said, pulling her closer. His excitement was becoming infectious. “Christmas is coming soon. Lizzie will have a break from school. Let’s take a vacation.”

Belle shook her head. “I can’t just leave on such short notice. I have clients, I have work.”

“We’ll go somewhere with a good Wi-Fi connection,” Liam said with a smile. “You can work remotely.”

Belle pulled her hands away, crossing her arms against her chest.

“You’re still running,” she pointed out. “Even if you take Lizzie and me with you, it’s still running.”

“It’s a family vacation, Belle,” he said with a shrug. “I promise to have you back in Boston come the first week of January. But you can’t deny a little alone time with our family is desperately needed.”

Belle still wasn’t convinced. As much as she longed to travel, as much as she wanted to sail off into the sunset with Liam, her life was here in Boston. She couldn’t just pack up and leave on such short notice.

“It’s freezing here,” Liam continued coaxingly, nodding his head toward the frost covered windows. “Why don’t we go somewhere warm? Bali? The Maldives? Hawaii? We can rent a sailboat and cruise the Mediterranean.”

Damn it but the man knew sailing was her weakness.

“One week,” she conceded.

“Two,” Liam countered.

Belle rolled her eyes. “I can’t take two weeks off work.”

“And why not? My name is still on the sign out front. What if I write you a note?”

Belle tossed her head with a snort. “You haven’t taken a CLE or paid your bar dues in almost ten years. I’m fairly certain you’re not in good standing with the state of Massachusetts.”

Liam pulled a face. “They’re going to make me take the bar exam again, aren’t they?”

“Like you’re going to return to the practice of law now?”

“Why not?” Liam said with a frown. “If you remember, I was quite good at it.”

“And Zorza left you with enough money to never need to work a day in your life again,” she pointed out.

Liam’s playful mood soured and Belle immediately regretted bringing up his inheritance.

“Blood money,” he spat. “I can’t take it, Belle. I’m going to refuse the succession.”

Belle arched an eyebrow. “And what good would that do?” she asked. “Think of how you could take that money and right Zorza’s wrongs. Think of the good you could do for the very community he preyed upon. And think of how miserable it would make Zorza to know all of his ill gained money was going to charity.”

Liam smirked. “Well, when you put it like that, the Bailey Gold Memorial Fund has a nice ring to it.”

Belle squeezed his hand, her eyes bright. “I think Bae would very proud of you.”

Liam blinked, his eyes suspiciously wet and Belle wrapped her arms around him, hugging him tightly.

“I hear Bali is beautiful this time of year,” she whispered against the shell of his ear. Liam just held her even tighter, and this time Belle knew he’d never let go.

* * *

 

Graham Humbert awoke on Christmas morning to a fresh layer of snow and a ringing doorbell.

He sat up, slightly disoriented for a moment, before disentangling himself from Emma’s arms as gently as possible and heading for the front door of his apartment. He couldn’t imagine who was bothering him so early on a holiday, but he wasn’t especially happy to be pulled from bed on one of his rare days off.

“Dove?” he said, squinting up at the tall man on his doorstep. “What the bloody hell are you doing here?”

“Miss Lizzie insisted,” Dove said in his deep baritone, holding out a package wrapped in bright red paper.

Graham took the box on instinct. A postcard was taped to it, a photo of a beautiful beach emblazoned with the words “Greetings from Bali!”

“Merry Christmas, Mr. Humbert,” Dove said before stomping off his front steps and out on to the snowy street.

“Merry Christmas,” Graham repeated distractedly. He carried the box back inside, setting it down on his coffee table and staring at it. It wasn’t as though it was strange for Lizzie to think of him on Christmas. What was strange was that this was the first Christmas morning in recent memory that he wouldn’t spend cross-legged on Belle’s living room floor watching Lizzie tear through her gifts with his own two eyes. This year they were thousands of miles away, with Gold, spending their first holiday as a complete family.

The thought didn’t sting as much as he once thought it would. He was glad Lizzie had her father, and Belle had the man she loved back in her life. He didn’t trust Gold and he’d probably never truly warm to him again, but he made the girls happy and for that Graham could accept him.

He shook his head, reaching out for the gift and slipping his finger under the edge of the wrapping paper. He assumed Dove had done the gift-wrapping and he’d done a fine job. There was barely a seam in sight, a minimal amount of tape used. If the big man ever needed holiday employment he could probably get a job wrapping presents at a department store.

Once he’d shucked the festive paper to the side, he opened up the box within revealing an intricately carved wooden mask. It appeared to be some sort of demon with its tongue lolling out. Graham snorted a laugh at Lizzie’s taste. Tucked in beside the mask was a small folded piece of paper and Graham took it out, reading the few sentences quickly.

_Graham,_

_We saw this at a market and Lizzie insisted we get it for you. She said it reminded her of you. Her name is Rangda and she is a demon queen who eats children. Try not to be too offended by that. We all wish you a very Merry Christmas. Yes, even Liam._

_Love,_

_Belle_

Graham couldn’t help but chuckle, tucking the note back into the box.

“Hey,” came a sleepy voice from behind him and he turned to see Emma standing in the doorway, wrapped in his flannel pajama top, her hair mussed from sleep. “What are you doing up so early?”

“Package delivery,” he said, motioning to the box in front of him.

Emma padded over to him, stooping over his spot on the sofa and staring down into the box.

“It’s hideous,” she said baldly.

“I don’t know,” Graham said, cocking his head to the side. “I like it.”

He took Emma’s hand pulling her around to the front of the sofa until she could sit down beside him. He had something he wanted to tell her, something he wanted to get off his chest. But the relationship between them was still new and he didn’t want to scare her off.

“I don’t know if I’ve ever told you this,” he lied. “But I have an older brother.”

Emma arched an eyebrow. He knew for a fact he’d never told Emma anything about his family. He never told anyone anything about his family or his personal life. Maybe it was time for that to change.

“My brother is in a mental health facility,” he continued slowly. “I visit him twice a week and yet I don’t tell anyone about him. It’s not because I’m embarrassed of him. I’m not at all. It’s more that I thought letting anyone in to my life that far would be wrong. I’ve never really had someone to share it all with.”

Emma was just watching him, her green eyes calm, her mouth a flat line.

“I don’t know exactly where this is going between us,” he continued. “And I don’t want to put any pressure on you. But I’m going to visit Jeff today and I’d like you to come along and meet him. I’m tired of keeping secrets from everyone and Jefferson doesn’t deserve to be one of my secrets.”

Emma’s eyes narrowed for a moment as if she was trying to puzzle something out, then she nodded.

“Okay,” she said. “I’d like to meet your brother.”

“Alright,” Graham said, clapping his hands together. Enough sentimentality for one morning. “Well it’s Christmas morning and that calls for my famous hot chocolate.”

He headed into his small kitchen as Emma called after him. “Add cinnamon!”

* * *

 

Cora Mills prided herself on her adaptability. Prison was hardly the most glamorous place she’d ever found herself, but it certainly wasn’t the worst. The food was dismal, the company even worse, but the women she now found herself surrounded by were useful. In addition to adaptability, Cora prided herself on seeing potential in people, no matter how small.

Her new cellmate, a pretty young thing named Anastasia incarcerated for grand larceny after stealing from a rich former boyfriend, was particularly of interest. Regina had failed her for the last time. She needed someone new to invest her wisdom and talents in.

And Cora was sure she would be out of prison and back home in a matter of months. She had the best attorneys money could buy, and she had a thousand powerful people who owed her a favor. She had spent years ensuring that if she was ever in this situation, she could easily find a way out of it.

But the knowledge that her prison stay would be short lived was poor comfort some days. And as Cora found herself sitting outside in the prison yard in her heinous khaki jumpsuit with the type of rabble she never would have associated with outside the four prison walls, she indulged in feeling a small amount of pity for herself.

There was a group of women not far from her, talking under their breath and sneaking glances at her. She knew she’d been able to instill a certain amount of fear in her fellow inmates in the few months she’d been here. Already she had several of the guards in her pocket and she’d started up a fairly successful contraband ring ensuring her a place of status in the prison hierarchy. With that came a certain amount of jealousy.

She needed muscle to protect her, but none of the women she’d met so far seemed to suit the bill for that particular need. As fearful as people could be of Cora, she was aware of her limitations. Petite and over 50 wasn’t exactly a physical imposition.

One of the women, youthful looking though she couldn’t be sure of her age, had her eyes fixed on Cora, not bothering to pretend she wasn’t watching like her comrades were. Her dirty blonde hair was shoulder length and wavy, her eyes keen in the morning sunlight.

Suddenly she departed from the group, walking straight over to Cora, bold as brass. Her friends were calling after her in hushed voices, but she didn’t heed them.

“My name’s Tilly,” the girl said, sitting down across from her without hesitation. “Mr. Gold did me a solid years back. I owe him a favor.”

Cora clasped her hands tightly in her lap, glancing over to where one of her guards was leaning against the brick prison wall of the yard.

“So you’re here to kill me on his behalf?” she asked, her voice betraying nothing. Cora Mills wasn’t about to be taken down by some little street urchin of a girl.

Tilly threw her head back in a laugh, her blue eyes sparkling a little madly.

“No,” she said with a shake of her head. “I haven’t seen Goldie in years. I just heard he was back and he’s the reason you’re in here. Thought I’d introduce myself seeing as we have a common acquaintance and all.”

Cora arched an eyebrow, looking down her nose at the girl. “I can assure you I have no desire to reminisce about William Gold.”

The very name was like nails on a chalkboard. The man had gotten the better of her, for the time being. That wasn’t something Cora was prone to let slide. She’d come so close to having it all. Zorza’s entire company was almost hers; she just needed the bastard to die. She had an entire network of loyal employees. She had gotten rid of Leopold Blanchard, Daniel Stabler, and William Gold in one fell swoop with Peter Zorza soon to follow. Everyone had moved exactly where she’d wanted them to for years. And then she was betrayed by her own daughter, and Gold got to come out on top.

He’d fall again soon enough.

“Oh he’s not the only one,” Tilly said, the half crazed smile still in place. “I know someone else you know as well.”

“And who might that be?” Cora asked. She was growing tired of this conversation. If girls thought they could just approach her in the prison yard, she needed to work harder on her image. And employ that muscle.

“Mary Margaret Blanchard.” Cora’s eyebrows shot up at that. Leo’s meek little daughter kept more interesting company than she gave her credit for.

“She used to tutor me when I was in school,” Tilly continued. “She was always nice to me. Tried to get me to follow through on my potential but I still ended up here. You know, she still visits me the first Tuesday of every month. Can you believe? I’d do almost anything for Miss Blanchard.”

Cora wasn’t sure where this was going. Surely Mary Margaret Blanchard wasn’t the type for revenge. But one ill placed comment to this Tilly might have put the girl on a path Miss Blanchard hadn’t intended.

“Tilly,” Cora said bracingly. “May I ask what you’re in here for?”

“Shot a cop point blank in the chest,” Tilly said, her voice deadpan. “My lawyer said I was mad but they sent me here anyway.”

“And what’s your sentence?” Cora asked.

“Life in prison,” Tilly returned and Cora’s heart stuttered to a stop in her chest. A half crazed girl with almost nothing to lose. “I didn’t have as good a lawyer as you it seems.”

The girl smiled at her even bigger, winking at her with one blue eye.

“And what can I do for you, Tilly?” Cora asked. If it was money this girl wanted, strings pulled to get her case reviewed, a fucking carton of cigarettes, everyone had a price.

“Oh, I don’t want anything from you,” Tilly said with a shake of her head. “In fact, I think you could use my help.”

Cora just blinked, her gaze steady on the girl. “I don’t need any help.”

“See that’s where you’re wrong,” Tilly said, sitting back, her smile fading. “You want out of here. Permanently. I can make that happen.”

Cora stood up, backing away from the girl.

“I’ll be out of here soon enough,” she said. “As I said, I don’t need help.”

Quick as a flash, the girl grabbed at Cora’s arm, hauling her in close. The movement had finally attracted the guard and she set off across the yard in their direction. But it was too late. Cora already felt it, something sharp piercing her side. It felt surprisingly cold, a pain lancing through her but making her numb at the same time.

“You’re mad,” Cora managed to gasp out as Tilly was hauled away from her bodily, guards descending from around the yard.

“We’re all mad here!” Tilly cackled as Cora fell to her knees in the dust.


End file.
